


Existence is Futile

by zakaii



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft Youtubers, SleepyBoys, dreamteam - Fandom
Genre: Angst, But hey there are some lighthearted moments too, Intrusive Thoughts, Kidnapping, M/M, Mecha-Apocalypse AU, Minecraft Youtube AU, Slow Burn, Torture, adding more tags as story goes on, apocalypse au, dreamnotfound, fixing fundy and wilburs relationship to be brotherly, overall just sad, semi-hiatus, unedited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:02:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26070841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakaii/pseuds/zakaii
Summary: End-Tech is a powerful mechanical company that has created machines to help better the Earth. Things went wrong, however, when the Government tried to shut down their corporation. A miscalculation in the code turned the deactivation of the machinery to turning them into murdering machines. Now, all you can try to do is survive.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot/Fundy (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 323





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Check my socials for concept sheets of each character! (They’re written) : https://linktr.ee/coconutchampagne
> 
> Warning Notes
> 
> * Everyone in this AU is set in the future. Their ages in irl still apply but they are set in the future. (Ex : Tommy is still 16 in the AU even though its like 5 years later)
> 
> * Any ship that happens in this story is for plot. I do not condone shipping real people for it is toxic and unhealthy. I am shipping their online personas for the reason of content and the fact that I had turned their persona’s into my own characters. If anything is put out by the creators, I will try my hardest to find a way to rewrite the ships plot points but it will be difficult.
> 
> * There will be gore. Please keep this in mind when reading. There might be some parts where it will be troubling to read for some viewers. I would rather you to not read this fic if the following chapters become troubling for your health.

September 22 2025 | 11:56

The city was bustling with people, midday approaching within minutes. A light drizzle of rain trickled atop umbrellas of the large crowd of people. Some resorted to not having an umbrella at all, feeling as if it was unnecessary for how little it was raining. Two, in particular, went by this standard.

A tall blonde haired man walked alongside a shorter brown haired male, the two of them walking side by side and it was apparent they were friends. The two were heading towards a coffee shop, hoods up and covering their heads from the rain. One was wearing a black hoodie while the other was wearing a white rebranded Supreme hoodie.

Once the two entered the coffee shop, the both put their hoods down, being rather out of sync when doing so.

The dark haired male turned to the blonde, opening his mouth to speak to him. He had a question for him.

“What are you planning on getting, Clay?” The darker haired male asked as Clay wiped off his hands on his black joggers. He wanted to be comfy that day.

“Dunno. Gimme a surprise drink, George. I’ll pay.” Clay replied, looking down at George with a small smile. His cheeks puffed out from the smile, helping the lighting show off the freckles that were dappled across his nose and face.

George nodded and walked forward to the cashier, requesting his order. His english accent was thicker than usual, always having a bit of anxiety while ordering. It's not too terrible, though. He doesn't mind, he just hates it when his accent thickens… Clay, however, thinks it's cute.

Once the cost was revealed, Clay paid with cash, handing it to the cashier that sat behind the register. He let George walk off to find them a table as he received a number card and a receipt.

Clay gave the cashier a courteous nod, smiling and turning on his heel to walk towards his friend. He set the number card down first, placing the receipt underneath the card before he sat down.

“You know—“ Clay began to tease, watching as George shot his eyes at him with a slight glare. It was playful which made the moment even better, “your accent thickens when you order—“

“I know that, shut up.” George replied, softly kicking Clay’s shin with his shoe from under the table. It was all playful.

A working android walked up to their table, setting their orders down on the table and taking the number card, giving a fake smile.

“Enjoy your order.” It said, turning to return to its working station until it had to deliver another order.

George got a chocolate muffin with ice tea, getting Clay a chocolate pastry with a normal coffee. Any additions that would be added to the coffee were placed on the table for use.

“So…” Clay started, looking down at his coffee while putting a few sugar cubes in it. He liked how they dissolved, “How is America so far? I know it isn't Florida but it is New York.”

George took a sip of his ice tea, shrugging as he set it down on the table. “Dunno, it’s nice. Cold. Crowded. Rainy. Not as hot as it is in Florida… I don't know how you can live in that heat.”

Clay gave a soft snort with a small tea kettle laugh, a chuckle following after. “Good, good. Glad that your cold ass can adjust to New York weather than Florida weather.”

“I’m glad you moved. I don't have to die of a heat stroke every time I visit you.” George joked, taking a bite out of his muffin.

“Oh har har.” Clay rolled his eyes at the comment, tearing a small piece off of the croissant-like pastry and popping it into his mouth. Chocolate rods were resting inside of the pastry, slightly melted from sitting underneath a heater inside of the kitchen.

They sat happily like this, eating at their pastries and drinking their orders, having comfortable small talk that occasionally brought along some snarky remarks or laughter. It was peaceful.

Until the power went out all throughout the city. Everything went quiet and the townsfolk began to murmur. Clay turned his head to look out the window, seeing any robotics or mechanized machines shut down and collapse. Out of luck, none of the 68 foot tall “Endermen” fell, locking themselves in a standing position. Everything that belonged or was powered by End-Tech had shut off, including the city’s power…

Clay got up, looking towards George to give him a silent invite to join him outside. George followed behind his friend, staying close as if he would be parted from him.

Everyone was out on the streets, crowds of people muttering questions and concerns. Their voices filled the streets with subtle murmurs, all of them wondering the same thing.

What the hell happened?

The murmurs changed into screams and sounds of rebooting machinery. One of the Endermen activated by the coffee shop, its usual white eyes having turned purple within an instant. It dropped it arm down against a crowd of people, smashing and killing anyone in its reach.

Once Clay saw this, his eyes widened and he grabbed George’s arm, running inside of the coffee shop. They were frightened, expecting to have the indoors be a safe place for them to reside.

“What the hell was that??” George asked, panting out of anxiety and fear, feeling his heart rate increase by the second.

Clay looked down at the dark haired male, giving a frantic shrug. “I don’t know but we need to get out of here.”

Their attention was averted from each other, both of them now focusing on a newer scream. It came from the kitchen of the coffee shop.  
  
A sickening crack was audibly heard, followed by one of the workers that were in the back sprinting out and into the streets. George cringed at the noise, feeling himself want to go check and see what had happened, but Clay had other plans. He grabbed his wrist again, pulling him out of the shop.

Through the window, a struggling worker could be seen with the same android that delivered George’s and Clay’s order just only a few minutes before. The android clamped its metallic hands around the head and snapped the workers neck, letting the now-empty body fall to the floor, lifeless and limp.  
  
Now, Clay knew, nowhere was safe for them. They had to get out of the city and that might not even be enough to get away from the End-Tech robots.

They ran, blocking out the screams of terror and the destruction. They had already heard explosions, feeling the ground shake beneath their feet as the explosives went off. Bodies lay all around them, both of the boys unable to tell if they were living or dead… they had no time to check, though…

The scents of metal, iron and burning flesh were present, filling the noses of anyone who lives in the city. George cringed at what his senses were dealing with, having to close his eyes to try and combat the sounds, the smells and the screams.

He didn't see what was about to happen

A spider launched itself at the two, forcing Clay to push George away. George wasn't prepared, falling to the ground just to look up and see Clay pinned down by a screeching mechanized spider like thing. The screech was metalic and robotic, a weird oozing black essence formulating from its mechanical mouth as it yelled in Clay’s face.

Clay was holding its dagger-like feet away from him, having trouble gripping onto the almost smooth legs. His head turned towards George in a hasteful way, his face tightening in an act of struggle. He didn't want George to get hurt.

“RUN! GO!” Clay yelled in an act of desperation and George followed, pulling himself up and he quickly ran.  
  
Tears began to prick in George’s eyes, forcing their way to fall. He held them back. There was no way he could cry right now, he had to get home. The tears fell when he heard a sickening scream come from Clay, turning to look at what happened. He wished he hadn't…

Blood coated one of the talons on the spiders legs, a large gash was placed on Clay’s face, blood spilling into view. The spider brought down its talon again, slashing at the hoodie he was wearing and tearing through it, slashing across his chest in a hateful manner. That's when Clay stopped struggling.  
  
He was dead.

George stood for a few moments longer, tears streaming down his face and his chest tightened in disbelief. He should have stayed. He should have helped. He could have done something to prevent this—

But he had to get home. That's what Clay wanted. He wanted George to get back to the apartment and prepare to survive on his own.

So that's what George did. He ran, picking up his feet as he rubbed tears from his eyes with his sleeve. The sounds of screaming and mechanized screeching weren't able to drown out his thoughts of what he could have done.


	2. Into Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check my socials for concept sheets of each character! (They’re written) :
> 
> Instagram : @za.k.ai  
> Twitter : @za_k_ai

May 13 2026 | 13:23

The streets were quiet, soft metallic movements being the only thing that filled the vacant void with noise. Light chatter emitted from an alleyway as a group of four exited from it. Two walked out in front of the other two, seeming to have their own grouping within the group itself. 

Chatter only came from the two in the front. The younger ones. It was pleasant, compared to the sounds of metal that came from around them. 

The tallest one turned towards the man walking next to him, smiling at the boys in the front talk amongst one another.

“It’s nice to see the boys act so stress free…” He murmured to the shorter male, fixing his hair that was in his beanie.

The shorter male looked up at the taller and nodded, looking towards the 16 year olds talk and banter at each other quietly. 

“Yeah, it is… What do you think they’re talking about, Wil?” He asked, leaning towards Wilbur as he spoke. The dutch man tried to keep his voice down, not wanting to interrupt or startle the chattering children in front of him.

Wilbur nodded, looking back and forth from his friend to the two up front.

“I don't know. It's Tommy and Toby, who knows what they’re talking about.” Wilbur told him, ruffling the greys and browns on his head. 

Fundy whacked his hands at Wilbur, defending himself from having his hair being messed up. Wilbur only laughed, removing his beanie and placing it atop of Fundy’s head awkwardly, making Fundy put it on correctly. The shorter male nudged the taller with his elbow, chuckling alongside Wilbur.

“Now my ears won't get cold.” Fundy retorted, playing it off that he wasn't going to give the beanie back. Wilbur would have to take it from him.

The two adults chatter had lulled into a pleasant silence, watching as the younger audience had ducked down to inspect something, which only peaked suspicion from Fundy and Wilbur.

“Wil! Fundy! Come look at this,” Tommy shouted, causing Tubbo to turn towards his blonde haired (adopted) brother and shush him. There's no need to attract mecha.

The adults turned their attention to Tommy, walking over to them just to look down at a red and white object. Fundy seemed to have a bigger interest in the object than Wilbur, picking it up and cradling it in his hands.

It was a mask. A Kabuki Kitsune mask. Fundy had always found these types of masks interesting. Brushing off any dirt, he inspected it with a smile before placing it on his face. The only parts of his face that were visible are his lips and chin. His nose and the upper part of his face was now hidden underneath the mask.

Tommy smiled down at Fundy, having a few inches on the adult. “Keep it. I know you’ve been looking for one.” Tommy insisted.

Fundy gave him a quiet thank you as he removed the mask and kept it hung around his neck. It was true. He was looking for a mask to keep himself hidden. He had seen someone else do this, someone with a plain white mask, and thought that it was smart.

Bounty hunters exist. Fundy does go out on his own and checks terrain for the other three. If he was caught in some sort of trouble, it would be best to have a mask to keep your identity hidden. 

Wilbur had a soft gaze on the dutch man, nodding as he began to walk again. Tommy and Tubbo got the message but Fundy lagged slightly behind, inspecting the mask with a wide smile on his face.

“Lets go, Fundy.” Wilbur called, watching as Fundy looked up and quickly scampered to catch up with the group, sticking close to Wilbur and letting the 16 year olds be the leaders of this misfit pack.

_________  
May 13 2026 | 15:07

“I’m tired, can we sit somewhere or something?” Tommy complained, looking back at the adults who were quietly chatting amongst themselves.

Wilbur was the first to perk up, looking at Tommy with a slight sense of hesitation. Giving the boy a slight nod, he turned towards Fundy and gave him a soft smile. 

“Ready to scout?” Wilbur asked Fundy, watching as Fundy moved the mask to his face. He still had Wilbur’s beanie on.

“Yup. I’ll search for a suitable resting place. If I’m not back in an hour you know what to do.” Fundy said to Wilbur, receiving a nod from Wil.

Fundy turned on his heel and left, searching for a home to stay at for the time being, knowing they might be there for a day, a few weeks or even a month. It just depends. 

Wilbur watched him walk off, bat in hand. Wilbur always hated this, watching Fundy walk off and into the unknown. It scared him. What if he was found by mecha and was killed? How would Wilbur find him again?

He tried not to worry, having to focus more on Tubbo and Tommy. If anything happened to them he wouldn't know what to do. Tommy and Tubbo were like younger brothers to him.

“Let’s settle in this apartment, yeah?” Wilbur asked, gesturing to the apartment to his left. It was in rubble but was still standing tall through the remaining foundation. Tommy nodded, walking towards the apartment with Tubbo following behind. 

They entered the building quickly, having to climb through a broken window since the door was completely jammed by debris. Wilbur pulled his guitar off of his back, setting it gently on the ground. There was a spray paint can in the guitar case, sitting out on the side of it. 

He grabbed it and shook the can, the paint being a white color and he spray painted the entrance to the apartment building from the outside, having to reach his hand out and spray a small line. This would tell Fundy where they were. 

After doing that, he set the paint can back into his case and began to tug at the zippers of the case, instead. He never opened it fully, though, seeming to be lost in his own thoughts.

“I’m going to go check for silverfish.” Tubbo told Wilbur before standing and leaving Tommy and Wilbur alone. Wilbur quickly spoke a quiet “be careful” before he was in a different room, hearing a soft “okay” from the room that Tubbo had entered. 

Tommy noticed where they were. They were seated in the lobby of an apartment building, not in an actual home. He had never noticed that some apartment buildings had lobbies, he only thought that hotels had this feature. He assumed that he was wrong.

Turning to Wilbur, he spoke. “What do you think Fundy will find this time?”

“Hopefully someplace good. I would like a place where we could stay there for a couple of months and then I could finally have a chance at restocking supplies.” He replied, eyeing Tommy, “because someone keeps taking all of the bandage wrap and using it for no reason.” 

“What?? I can't help myself. It looks cool!” He retorted, throwing some soft debris at Wilbur which caused Wilbur to throw some back. He stared down Tommy with a soft, devilish smirk. “Don't test me, boy,”

Tommy replied with an awkward chuckle, setting down his hands back on the floor instead of grabbing more debris for another attack. “Alright, alright.” 

An odd silence filled the air as Wilbur slowly took his guitar out of the sleeve that it was in, tossing the strap over his head and resting the bottom of the wooden instrument in his lap. It was an acoustic guitar.

He plucked at the strings, tuning the guitar by ear as to hopefully remember how each string buzzed. Each passing day, he became more and more unsure with the tuning of the instrument, feeling that it would never reach that “in-tune” feeling again. Some string would either be a tad bit too sharp or too flat compared to the rest of the instrument…

The man began to reminisce, remembering the old songs that he used to play at bars. He especially remembers the three songs he played the night he met Fundy. They were all his own written songs… oh how he wishes to be back before the apocalypse.

Wilbur began to play to himself, singing the words of the song in his head. He didn't feel like singing, he only felt like playing. Tommy seemed to relax more, leaning more of his body against the wall that was behind him. He fiddled with the bandage wrap that was tucked around his arms and his palm. He was thinking back to what Wilbur had told him.

Maybe he should stop using that medical wrap.

The music continued on, having nothing to stop the sounds of vibration fill the air. It was a very calm setting, one that people would die for. Unfortunately, that moment was ruined.

Hisses and metallic screeching came from afar but the sounds drew closer. Wilbur stopped playing and put away his guitar, figuring that whatever was causing those machines to go crazy was either Fundy or some unlucky soul. 

“Be ready.” Wilbur whispered to Tommy, picking up his guitar and tossing it over his shoulder, feeling the instrument hit his back.

The sound of feet against rubbled concrete was now heard, coming closer and closer to the building. Tommy rounded himself behind the corner, unsure of who or what that might be. He was to be prepared for anything, knowing that Wilbur favored Tommy’s life over his own.

Leaping through the window in a blur, Fundy launched himself into the apartment complex, landing on the floor with a soft grunt as he scurried to stand. The dutch spotted his family and quickly waved them to follow. They needed to be away from the front room. 

With haste, Wilbur and Tommy followed, hearing the screams of mecha inch closer. The hoard sounded large and deadly. Going towards it would be a death wish.

“What happened?” Wilbur whispered as they entered the back room. Tubbo was there, a silverfish in his lap and he was feeding it metal scraps.

“Found a place to stay. Flooded with spiders… they weren't nesting there but I think it was just a way to rest their systems.” Fundy replied, standing close to Wilbur so that he was as quiet as possible. He removed his mask and took off Wilbur’s beanie, handing the knitted cloth back fo him.

“When can we get there?” Wilbur replied, fixing the beanie back on his curls. Fundy smiled when he did so.

“Erm… well… whenever there is an open clearing to that mess outside we can leave, but for now we are staying put.” Fundy replied, looking over at Tommy and Tubbo. They understood. The group would be staying there that night.

“Lets get some rest, all of you.” Wilbur murmured, moving over to a far corner and he placed his guitar down silently. There was a pile of old bed sheets placed on the ground, thinking this room must've been some sort of storage room or laundromat of sorts. He couldn't really tell.

Fundy followed, watching Wilbur as he also shrugged off the backpack that held their things. Tommy did the same, placing the mixed bag of Tubbo’s and Tommy’s things down where they kept the bulk items, untying Wilburs varsity jacket that sat around his waist and he shrugged it on. It was going to be cold that night… it usually was. 

Following their usual routine, they all laid down, huddling close together to try and keep as much warmth near them than around them. Wilbur was usually the one that was used as a pillow. Fundy always cuddled close to him on his left side while Tommy used Wilbur’s chest as a pillow, wanting to spare room for Tubbo. Tubbo usually used Tommy as support, having always been the outlier.

They did what they needed for warmth, the children kept their reasonable distance but the adults…? Not so much. Fundy had his face tucked away in the crook of Wilbur’s neck, an arm wrapped around his lower chest. It was as if he was a blanket.

The night passed, the screeches and cries from the mechanical creatures slowly came to a halt. They would be able to leave in the morning.


	3. Build a Pyre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check my socials for concept sheets of each character! (They’re written) :
> 
> Instagram : @za.k.ai  
> Twitter : @za_k_ai

May 13th 2026 | 11:14

It was quiet. The wind blew along the ground, sending small bursts of dust particles towards the british man. He wore green, a color he found rather ugly due to the fact that he saw it as a gross yellow. George couldn't help but keep it on, keeping the only salvageable piece of Clay left.

He looked tired, his skin turning pale each day and dark circles formed under his eyes. His stomach rumbled, having a rather difficult time finding food. He should’ve stashed more chips before he booked it out of the apartment Clay lived in.

Every once and awhile, the brown eyed man kicked at a piece of rubble, watching the balled up concrete scuttle across the floor, clicking with each bounce. He enjoyed the noise, able to drown out the sounds of metallic groaning around him.

George looked up, observing the rooftops of each fallen building. The buildings were already beginning to have brush grow on them, liking to see the off colored greens flourish against the depressing greys. 

There was a resting enderman standing near one of the buildings, having a few more heights above the toppled over building. It looked at peace, damaged, but at peace. Its purple eyes were sealed away, looking as if it was asleep. George cracked a small smile, making sure not to look it directly in its eyes just in case it woke up. 

He readjusted the glasses that sat atop his head, some of the hairs that were pulled back had gotten loose and were tickling his forehead. He used the glasses as a headband to keep his hair back sometimes, only using the glasses if he needed to deal with wiring or things that involved colors. 

His hands gripped on the satchel that helped keep his messenger bag attached to him. The bag held granola bars, a pair of clothes and two kitchen knives that he snagged from the apartment before escaping. 

George had to look for food and medical supplies, having nothing on him with the little bag. He either needed an upgraded bag or something that could attach to the satchel. 

He found an old pharmaceutical store, the doors of the place having been shattered and on the ground. The windows were also shattered, causing George to step on the glass. The glass crunched under his feet, pulling out the knife from his bag just in case he came in contact with endo-skeletons or cyborg zombies. He had the blade gripped reversed, having it ready to stab if needed. He always held it where the blade was facing outwards.

Stepping inside the store, George veered towards the right side of the store and walked forward, spotting a few things on the shelves. He quietly and carefully unzipped the bag, placing rubbing alcohol, cotton balls and bandage wrap inside of his bag, heading up towards the front counter to find any sort of candy or snack.

The english man continued to trek carefully, trying to stay as silent as possible. He concentrated his breathing, trying to steady his heart rate as well as he wandered through the store.  
  
He began to turn the corner of the isle, only to have a hand wrap around him and pull him backwards. He muffled a small grunt in alarm, stabbing whoever was attacking him in the leg. A stuffled hiss came from behind him as the grip tightened. Blood seeped from the wound, the red crimson hitting the floor in droplets.  
  
“You dumbass—“ the kidnapper whispered, the males voice was strangled, “there's a skeleton. You almost walked right towards it.”

And that's when George saw. He gave a soft nod and patted the strangers arm as if he was silently asking to be let go. The endo-skeleton maneuvered in the back of the store. Thankfully, it was far enough away from the boys that they were hidden by the isle shelves  
  
The stranger let George go, moving backwards to sit and try to fix his leg. George came to his aid, pulling the messenger bag off of his shoulder and he set it on the ground. Carefully and quietly, the british man pulled resources off of the shelves and he moved himself towards the strangers leg. Blood had coated the strangers black jeans, somehow making it an even darker color.

George took a quick glance at him, taking in whatever information he could about his appearance. A white bandana was tied around his head, a black face scarf hiding away his nose and mouth, only leading his eyes to observe. He also had on a white hoodie with what seemed to be a black long sleeve shirt with a turtleneck. The shirt was thin, figuring that it was for breathing purposes. He was thankfully wearing black ripped jeans, making the job George had bestowed upon himself a lot easier

He took the medical wrap and tied it around the top of his thigh, tying it as tight as possible before he removed the knife. He quickly cleaned the wound, patching it up as soon as possible to help stop the bleeding.  
  
“We need to get out of here.” George whispered, looking at the stranger in worry, “Can you stand?”

“With a little help, yeah.” The stranger replied, waiting for an offering to stand back up. He wanted out of the pool of blood he was sitting in. It made him feel grimey.

George tossed his messenger bag around his head, letting the strap rest on his shoulder. He held out his hand for the stranger, pulling him up and letting him lean against him. George took his arm and made sure it was around his shoulders, helping carry most of his weight on his legs. 

The stranger pulled off a bottle that was connected to a chain, lighting a lighter with the same hand and he lit the top of the glass bottle. The bottle buzzed on the inside, heat welling up as the bottle was ready to explode. The stranger lifted his arm and tossed it across the store, hearing the demonic metallic screeching of endo-skeletons erupt from the back of the store.

“Go!” The stranger yelled, causing George to hustle out of the store. He was quick to react, having already been moving at a cautious but quick pace before the stranger shouted.

They made it out, watching as the pharmacy went up in flames.

_________  
May 13 2026 | 20:23

A fireplace was lit, warming up the small room the stranger and George sat in. They had sat in comfortable silence as George carefully tended to the strangers wounds. He had found a sewing kit within the building they were in, the sewing kit had not been for medical purposes, though…

Neither of them had spoken since they watched the pharmacy go up in flames and neither of them were planning on speaking to one another. They didn't know what to talk about nor what they would do next. Would they ask about an alliance or separate on their own ways?

“...” the stranger began to open his mouth to speak, closing it once more just to think about what he should say.  
  
George didn't notice. He was too focused on stitching up the stranger, finishing the final stitch and re-wrapping the wound properly as well as cleaning the wound after stitching. He carefully wrapped it up, cutting the wrap to complete it. He got rid of the tighter wrap as well, not needing to have that there anymore.

It gave a sense of relief to the stranger, not having his leg feel like it was going to pop especially with the wound. The throbbing lulled but his leg still ached.  
  
Pulling out a bottle from his bag, George opened an ibuprofen bottle and tapped 3 tabs into the strangers palm, handing him his own water.

“I don't know if you’re a germaphobe, but here.” George murmured, breaking the silence that had lingered for the past few hours.

The stranger smiled and nodded, popping the pills in his mouth and then taking a drink out of the water bottle, handing it back to the british man.

“I’m Nick, but people usually call me Sapnap.” The stranger spoke, making himself more comfortable where he was seated. 

“George.” The british man replied, taking back the water bottle just to put out his hand for a handshake. “It's nice to meet you.”

Sapnap reached out for George’s hand and shook it, nodded. “Nice to meet you, too, George.”  
  
After Sapnap had let go of George’s hand, George retreated back to his supplies and pulled out more cotton swabs, cleaning the skin around the wound that was covered in dry blood from before and fresher blood from redoing the bandaging and adding stitching.  
  
“Sorry for stabbing you, earlier.” George apologized, only to receive a shrug from Sapnap.

“Don't worry about it too much, you were defending yourself and I didnt even notice the knife before I grabbed you. There were faults on both of our ends.” Sapnap replied, trying to ease the weight that was resting atop of George’s shoulders.

“Alright…” The british man exhaled, wiping his hands off together, “I’m going to go figure out sleeping arrangements. Do you need anything while I’m up?”  
  
Sapnap only shook his head, looking at and poking at the newly stained bandage on his thigh. He was focusing on whatever he could to lessen the pain on his thigh. It would be awhile before the pain medicine would kick in.  
  
After getting his silent reply, George stood and walked into a separate room, finding and setting up the sleeping arrangements that night. They would sleep comfortably, finding a twin bedroom with 2 twin beds, fully fitted for use. 

“Sapnap!” George called in a quiet manner, being cautious of how loud he was, “I found beds.”

He left the room, heading back over to Sapnap in haste as he held his hand out for his new ally, ready to escort him to the bedroom to rest. 

Sapnap took his hand, pulling himself up and he reached his other hand out to grip on George’s shoulder. He muttered a small “thanks” as George hoisted Sapnaps arm around his shoulder and helped him walk to the bedroom.

“No problem,” George replied, going at whatever pace Sapnap took whilst he hobbled with his good leg.

They made it to the bedroom with a cautious haste, George moving to the bed to carefully sat him down on the bed.

“Is your leg okay?” George asked quietly, raising his brows at him in worry.

Sapnap only nodded, waving him off as he began to move and adjust himself to lay down, letting out a soft groan of relief as he felt his back loosen up. He was ready to sleep on a bed, especially since he hadnt slept on such luxury in a long time.

“I’m going to go put the fire out.” George replied, leaving the room to put out the flames. He didn't want the home to ignite while they were there, sleeping inside of the home. George especially didn't want to risk anything because of Sapnap’s “condition”.

He grabbed a bottle of water that was sitting on the kitchen counter. It looked old, murky and gross, wondering if it had sat there since the beginning of the end. Shrugging, he walked over to the fireplace and unscrewed the cap, putting out the flames with the old water. 

Some embers still flickered, refusing to die off but having no life to grab onto. George didn't worry about those, placing the empty water bottle on the brick fireplace and he returned to the bedroom.

“Goodnight” was heard from Sapnap, coming through as a quiet and tired voice. George just gave a small chuckle, seating himself on the other bed and he laid himself down.

“Goodnight, Sapnap.” He replied, pulling a sheet over himself. George pulled his knees to his chest, curling up in the fetal position as it gave him a sense of security. He wrapped the arm he was laying on top of around himself, his hand resting on his shoulder.

The bed didn't help how tired he was, the comfort of a mattress being unlike any other. He had forgotten what a bed felt like, usually sleeping on the floor or on top of rubble. It was nice.

At this moment, he wouldn't trade anything to have this comfort. He only wanted sleep.


	4. Ballroom Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I’m posting this chapter early! Its Sunday somewhere in the world, lol. I’m thinking of posting every Wednesday and Sunday but I’m unsure
> 
> Check my socials for concept sheets of each character! (They’re written) :
> 
> Instagram : @za.k.ai  
> Twitter : @za_k_ai

May 14th 2026 | 9:02

When Wilbur woke from his slumber, the first thing his mind focused on was how cold it was. He could feel the difference of temperature that fluctuated through his body on his nose and fingertips.

It was morning. The calmest time of the day. All of the underground mecha that usually roamed the streets have now hunkered back down underground. It was safe to travel.

Sitting up, he noticed the weight difference was a lot more off than usual. To Wilbur’s right, Tommy and Tubbo slept soundly, exhausted from yesterday. To his left, however, Fundy was missing. 

The british man scanned around the room, trying to pick up on clues of his whereabouts. Sadly, he couldn't find anything that belonged to Fundy, releasing a sigh with a slight frown. Fundy would come back, he knew so. 

Right?

He exhaled, dragging his cold fingers through his curls, realizing that his beanie had fallen off of his head during his sleep. Turning his sight downwards, he picked up the knitted cloth and placed it back atop his head, carefully standing up so as to not wake the boys. 

He figured he would wait for Fundy’s return, not wanting to leave their resting place. So, to occupy his time, Wilbur walked into the first room where he had played guitar for Tommy. Stepping towards the window, he observed the glass, brushing away some pieces that he hadn't noticed and thankfully missed yesterday. 

The noises that filled the air outside were a lot quieter than usual, making Wilbur wonder what has caused such a suspicious rest. It made Wilbur uneasy. 

He hopped over the windows opening, taking in the fresh air. The british man tucked his hands in his pockets, walking around the area to try and find some supplies. He didn't want to stray too far, though, not wanting to be too far from where the rest of them slept. 

He didn't get very far, though. He heard the shuffling of shoes come from the distance, causing him to turn and clench his fists in his pockets. He was a hell of a melee fighter, could punch like no other, even if his hands did get bloody or bruised. He was as if he were a force to be reckoned with.

Wilbur let down his guard, though, noticing the familiar tufts of white and brown, the mask and the outfit. 

“Fundy, where have you gone?” Wilbur asked, walking up to him with a slight smile. He was worried but he was glad Fundy returned.

“Went to check out the ballroom from yesterday. That's where the hoard of spiders were… it's cleared out, now, must’ve moved them.” The dutch man replied, receiving a hug from Wilbur. 

It was a tighter hug, making Fundy wrap his arms around Wilburs neck. Wilbur hid his face in Fundy’s shoulder, keeping his arms wrapped around the dutch’s upper body. 

“Y’know, someday I feel like you’re going to wander like you usually do and then never return.” Wilbur admitted, exhaling slightly.

Fundy sighed, knowing where this was coming from. He told this to Fundy frequently, all since the beginning of the apocalypse. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Wil, you know this. I promise it, too. I cant leave the boys and I cant leave you.” Fundy replied, not letting go until Wilbur let go.

It was respectful to let the one who initiated the hug let go first. Wilbur didn't seem to want to let go, though, gripping lightly onto Fundy’s holdie.

“I know… It is always a possibility, though. You know this.”

“I know, Wil.”

They sat there awhile longer, holding each other while they could. They knew they shouldn't be so vulnerable out in the open like this. There could be machines or people that could take advantage of this opportunity and attack.

And Wilbur knew this.

With a final deep breath and sigh, he let go of his friend and smiled at him, ruffling his hair. Fundy grumbled at him, smacking at his arm to get away from him.

“I’m going to go wake the boys and get them ready for travel. You get our stuff together, yeah?” Fundy asked Wilbur, only to receive a nod from the curly-haired man.

They both made their way back through the broken window, separating to do their respective tasks. Wilbur began to pack everything up, setting out granola bars for the boys to eat for breakfast.

He slung his guitar over his shoulder and picked up Tommy’s travel bag, full of the contents that both Tubbo and Tommy had.

Fundy exited the room, looking up at Wilbur for a moment. He didnt speak and didnt avert his gaze out of embarrassment, he just looked. He was taking in the features of his friend, looking at how sharp his features are yet how soft they seemed whenever he smiled or laughed. How his ears slightly tucked inwards at the back and how his hair curled only at the top of his heads instead of the sides where the strands were straight. He also enjoyed how his dark brown eyes turned a golden color in the sunlight.

Wilbur Soot is a sight, Fundy would admit… but to no one other than himself.

“What?” Wilbur asked, having been looking at him in confusion for a few seconds.

Fundy shook his head, looking down at his feet and ruffling his hair. He turned his gaze away from the floor and Wilbur, clearing his throat. He was hiding his embarrassment.

“Nothin, nothin. I woke the boys up. We’ll be out of here in a moment.” Fundy told Wilbur, only to get a short chuckle and he noticed from the corner of his eye that Wilbur had turned his attention back on the bag. 

“Alright…” Wilbur replied, his voice deeper as he tried to be quiet. “Whatever you say,  _ Floris _ .” 

Fundy turned towards Wilbur, nudging him playfully with a fist. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time.” 

Wilbur gave another chuckle, handing Tommy’s bag to Fundy to throw over his shoulder. 

“Tommy will protest carrying that because he just woke up. Give it to him once he finishes his breakfast.” Wilbur told Fundy as Fundy took the bag from his hands, hoisting it over his shoulder. 

Fundy knew this about Tommy. He knew a lot about the group. They have all been traveling with each other for about 6 months, scrounging for food and shelter as much as possible as they made their way towards the Great Atlantic Bridge. 

The bridges helped connect the United States to Europe. They had traveled all the way to New York, the bridge beginning in that state and ending in Spain. They could get back home that way. Or at least thats how Wilbur could get back home.

Fundy didnt have anything back home in the Netherlands to return to. Wilbur, however, did. He had something to go back to, maybe. Thats what Wilbur wanted to believe and Fundy would follow him on that belief. So would Tommy and Tubbo, knowing the two and their brother-like relationship with Wilbur. 

“Hey, Wilbur?” Fundy started, turning towards the taller man in question.

Wilbur turned back towards Fundy, his brows raising in curiosity and question. He hummed towards the shorter male, gripping onto the strap that was on his guitar. 

“I—“

“Why did you have to wake me up so early, Fundy.” Tommy groaned, interrupting Fundy’s thought. Fundy dropped it.

“Sorry, my guy, but we have to get moving. I found a better place to camp out at.” Fundy replied to the blonde boy, watching his shoulders slouch in annoyance. 

“Take your breakfast and eat up. We’re leaving now.” Wilbur spoke, getting to mumbled ‘okay’’s from the children. 

Tubbo was quiet and cooperative, taking the granola bar from Wilbur and he began to eat in silence, making his way towards the window-entrance.

Tommy followed after, the roles of follow-the-leader being swapped. He pulled apart the wrapper and began to snack on it, following for the older yet shorter male. The two were inseparable.

Wilbur watched the two make their way out of the old apartment building, walking towards the window to exit as well. Fundy was the last person to step out of the apartment building, walking ahead of the group.

Tubbo and Tommy were in the middle while Wilbur stayed in the back. He had to be ready for any attack while Fundy led the way to their new home. 

______

May 14th 2026 | 10:45

  
  
  


Fundy had led them to a large building, the building somehow holding itself up even after all of the destruction the apocalypse had caused. Wilbur wondered how the building hadn't been destroyed by an Enderman, noting how large it was and how in the open it was, too. To Wilbur, it looked like a theater or a ballroom from the outside. The english man wasn't too sure. He had to see the inside to determine what it could be.

Fundy entered the building first, right through the entrance. The doors weren't broken into and seemed to be in good shape, allowing for easy access. That would be a project for Wilbur to fix. They needed that security. 

“What even is this place?” Tommy asked, walking inside behind Fundy, Tubbo at his side as the two of them observed the high ceilings and the fancy marble floor.

Wilbur entered as well, shutting the door behind them. He would deal with a barricade later.

“I think it was a ballroom of sorts?” Replied Fundy, setting down Tommy’s backpack. He had a fight with Tommy about having him take it but eventually gave up because they were getting a little bit too loud.

Wilbur followed after Fundy, setting his guitar down next to the backpack as he began to wander around the ballroom, checking every nook and cranny that he could. He didn't want any silverfish here or anything that might be of danger towards the group.

Tubbo, however, spotted something up on the stage. He saw it glint from the remaining light from the windows and ran towards it, having to climb up onto the stage at the end of the room. It was about 4 ft tall, making Tubbo prop himself up with his hands and swing his legs up and over. It was very impressive acrobatics.

“Fundy! There’s a piano here!” Tubbo yelled, skidding to a halt at the instrument. It was old, obviously, having been around for years and dealt with the neglect from the apocalypse.

The keys glistened in the remaining sunlight, clouds moving overhead and foreshadowing rain. Fundy had moved towards Tubbo in a slow haste, knowing that the younger boy would find Fundy’s surprise sooner or later. The dutch man climbed onto the stage, walking towards where Tubbo stood.

Tubbo moved the seat out, its legs scratching against the floor, making the floor screech. The sound echoed through the room, filling the silence with such an awful sound. Fundy cringed but he wasn't surprised, the man just hated the noise.

Tubbo took a seat and shook out his arms and hands, exhaling a nervous sigh. He hadn't touched a piano in a long time, almost forgetting the euphoria he would feel when he began to play. He missed this instrument, it always held a dear spot in his heart. Maybe it was because his mother used to play it or maybe it was his connection with Fundy. He didn't know.

All he knew was that he missed his mother and father, having lost them before the apocalypse began. He had been in that orphanage for sometime. About 7 years. Tommy was there, too, having been there since the start. He remembered how excited Tommy was to have someone his age. Tommy was how he got his nickname,  _ Tubbo _ . Tubbo never understood the nickname but he still enjoyed it.

His fingers gracefully placed themselves onto the piano, going through a simple C scale just to try and remember how it felt to have the keys move under his fingers. His calloused hands moved across the white keys in ease, not having to touch the black keys due to the key signature. The way he had to play piano felt odd yet familiar, like relearning a new trick or skill all over again.

Tubbo also took in how out of tune the piano was, cringing just slightly. He wondered if there was a way that he, himself, could tune the large instrument. He would have to ask Fundy for help, of course, but that's alright. He wants to spend more time with his brotherly-figure. 

Rain began to drizzle outside, the sounds being amplified through the broken-in windows. Fundy found it relaxing, focusing his gaze on the nearest window as Tubbo began to play. It was a slightly improvised rendition of Merry-Go Round of Life from Howl's Moving Castle. 

Fundy watched, crossing his arms and pressing them up to his chest as he watched Tubbo play with a proud gaze. The boy remembered how to play piano… the talent wasn't lost. It only made the dutch man think about the past, back when he first met Tubbo and helped him learn more piano, teaching him new songs and teaching him some music theory for improv purposes.

It was a simpler time then. He was on a roadtrip with Wilbur, traveling along the states in a RV. They lived together and had to share the same bed. The two never cared, though, they always kept to their side and if anything awkward happened, they both brushed it off with ease. It was easy, living with Wilbur. They seemed to coexist without problem and rarely got into fights. When they did fight, however, it was usually sprung off of a bit or a joke, ending with no hard feelings. 

Cutting out of his thoughts, a finger tapped on his shoulder and Fundy turned his gaze behind him, looking up at his old roommate. He raised a brow in question, a small smile picking at his lips.

Wilbur held his hand out, stepping back just a bit. It was a calm moment, a seeking of invitation to the dutch man. 

“May I have this dance?” He whispered in a low toned voice to Fundy, making Fundy roll his eyes and scoff just a bit, taking his hand and accepting the invitation willingly. 

“Don’t make a fool of me, Soot.” Fundy retorted, feeling his arm being tugged towards Wilbur. He quickly placed his hand on Wilburs shoulder to brace himself, their chests colliding and resting against one another.

“Never in a million years,  _ Floris _ .” Wilbur replied, having said Fundy’s actual name. Fundy hadn't heard this name in a long time, not since he moved out from his parents place when he was 16. He was 20, now, living his life during an apocalypse. 

Tubbo was oblivious of what was happening behind him, consumed by the joy of being able to use a piano again. The two older men moved slowly, dancing to the waltz tune. At first, they moved in a silly, joking way. Wilbur often let Fundy swing a little too far out, seeming to swuing him around obnoxiously. This made the dutch man chuckle on occasion, keeping in mind where the ledge of the stage was. He didn't want to fall and hurt himself.

Eventually, the two began to relax in each other's arms, sitting and embracing the calm that the group was experiencing. It was refreshing, not having to worry about people or machines for once in a long time. They had each other to hold onto, the boys were there as a moral support. Kept them going and helped them remember why they were leaving this wretched country.

But right now, they could rest, relax. Fundy had his eyes shut, focusing on the steady rhythm of the english mans heartbeat. It was relaxing, a reminder that the person he put most of his trust into was a real person. Living, breathing, thinking and existing. He had emotions. That's what makes the difference between man and machine. He can't trust machines. He can, however, trust man.

Fundy flinched slightly, feeling a cheek rest upon the back of his head. He exhaled sharply in a chuckle-like manner, smiling a small bit as he watched the rain fall outside through a cracked window. He had his arms carefully wrapped around his back, slithering them out to move and wrap his arms around his neck, letting his arms rest on his shoulders. He tucked his head securely into the crook of Wilburs neck, the bridge of his nose pressed against his neck.

He felt arms trail higher up his back, gripping around the dutch man as if he were holding him to protect him. It gave Fundy a sense of calm, letting his mind go blank and his body was drained of stress. Oh, how he wanted to stay there forever, wanting nothing else in the world than just to stay in this moment. It was better than anything that was outside. 

He felt Wilbur turn his head, pressing his nose and lips against his scalp. He could hear Wilbur begin to hum along to the song Tubbo was playing, feeling the vibration against his nose and lips which were pressed up against his neck. They continued to sway with the rhythm, not having any interest or intent of moving away from the moment. Fundy felt his face flush, a blitz of happiness and calm firing through his body. It was refreshing.

Of course, every song wasn't infinite. Tubbo ended the tune, his hands moving off of the keyboard just to brush them against his pants. He hadn't noticed the two until he turned towards them to get recognition for his playing. He only saw them and understood what was going on, taking the fact that they would dance to his playing was enough recognition. Tubbo quietly stood and hopped off of the stage, leaving them alone to enjoy the moment they were sharing. He wanted to find Tommy, not having seen him after he finished playing. The elder boy wondered where his taller, younger friend had run off to, exiting the main room where Fundy and Wilbur stood.

“You know, Fundy, I’m glad you were able to find this place.” Wilbur started, his lips moving against the dutch man’s head as he spoke. 

“Yeah, it's nice. Big, spacious, a place people wouldn’t travel into, it seems.” Fundy replied, feeling the motion of the swaying slow down until they were ultimately standing, holding one another as if there was no tomorrow. As if nothing could stop them.

“Guys, Tommy is gone!” Was the interruption, sadly. Both Wilbur and Fundy perked their heads up, eyeing Tubbo. Wilbur had a face of concern while Fundy had a face of annoyance. 

Fundy’s gaze shifted to their things, spotting that his bat was gone and he grumbled. “Bastard took my bat.” 

Wilbur let go of Fundy, slipping away from the moment to hop off of the stage, walking to his guitar case to grab his knife. Who knows what he would come up to. 

“Fundy, stay here with Tubbo just in case anything happens. There's a blue butterfly knife in my case if you need it. I’ll be back.” Wilbur finished, taking his long dagger and he set his coat on the floor, revealing a maroon sweatshirt with “DOOMED” plastered across the chest. The lettering was fading just a bit from having gone through the rough of the apocalypse.

As Wilbur passed by Tubbo, the younger boy could fear the anger radiating from him due to Tommy’s disappearance. Wilbur’s mood seemed to set off paranoia between the other two males, their gazes locked on each other as thoughts circulated on where Tommy could have run off to and why. 

Fundy let out a small sigh, moving to the guitar case and he rummaged through it in search of the butterfly knife Wilbur spoke of. Once he found it, he began to play with it, flicking it around as if he had used one once before.

“Where do you think Tommy went?” Tubbo asked, walking towards Fundy but keeping his distance due to the blade.

“I’m not sure. Knowing him and his thievery, he probably ran off to smash stuff.” Fundy replied, sighing. “He knows it's not a good idea, the noise is loud.”

Tubbo nodded, silently hoping that Tommy wasn’t out and about smashing things, causing a ruckus. It could give away their position. This ballroom was too nice of a luxury to let go so soon…


	5. Parking Garage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check my socials for concept sheets of each character! (They’re written) :
> 
> Instagram : @za.k.ai  
> Twitter : @za_k_ai
> 
> Thank you for 100+ kudos and 1000+ hits!! Thats crazy you guys!!

May 14 2026 | 10:06

George woke slowly, his body aching from his joints relaxing from all of the tension that had been building up for the past couple of months. He hadn't been able to sleep in a bed, resulting in sleeping in cramped rooms and on the floor. Sometimes he was lucky enough to be given the chance to lay on top of clothes or sheets, giving him some sort of comfort.

He sat there for a moment, relishing in the paradise he was able to experience for a short time. Of course, he had to wake up. He had someone to take care of as repayment for basically saving his ass from being ripped to shreds by an endoskeleton, searching for a body to host. The skeletons completely demolish the body, though, the body being unusable.

At least that's what George thinks happens. He's seen it happen before, having thrown up soon after the incident. George could vividly remember the details, organs spilled out of the gut, the jaw completely dislocated and hanging by stretched skin and muscle. Limbs completely torn off and discarded. Blood surrounding the body in a pool while blood was also scattered on the walls from the tearing. The whole body just seemed to be excessively stretched out beyond comprehension. George never wanted to deal with something like that.

George sat up, swinging his legs over the bed and he bent over to grab for his shoes. He wanted to get the imagery out of his head, making him feel sickened once again. Picking up his dark blue converse and slipping them on, he brushed his hands off on his black jeans.

He wondered if he should change the hoodie he was wearing. Currently, he wore a grey hoodie to bed that was an off brand supreme hoodie. He had worn it the day Clay had died. His hand reached up to the hoodie as he tugged on it, freezing in his place and he stared off at the wall. He missed his friend. He would never forget him.

Squatting for his bag, he picked it up by its handle and he placed it on the bed. He made sure to zip it open quietly as Sapnap was sleeping next to him. He didn't want to wake up the person he injured. He began digging for a hoodie to change into, his hand landing on the green hoodie that Clay wore. The one that George always wore. 

Of course, he saw the hoodie as a gross, dull yellow, but it was still his favorite. Pulling it out of the bag, he took off the grey hoodie he was currently wearing, making his hair fluff up awkwardly. His hair was messy due to sleep and now due to the static electricity that came from the hoodie. He neatly folded up the grey hoodie and tucked it away into his bag, unfolding and slipping on Clay’s old one. He tugged at the bottom of the hoodie for a moment, feeling the fabric his friend once wore. He wondered, if he were still here, how him and Clay would take on this apocalypse. He wondered where they would have gone, where they would have traveled to… 

George would have left if it wasn't for this nagging feeling that he had to stay and  _ wait _ for Clay. Clay was dead. Why was his conscience telling him to stay and wait for someone that isn't around anymore? Maybe it was just a way of grieving. George wasn't sure.

A small sigh escaped his lips as he realized that it wouldn't be the greatest idea if he wore the green hoodie out today. The weather asked for rain and if he went out he didn't want to get the hoodie even more ruined that it was. He slipped it off, folded it and placed the dull reminder back into his bag. Carefully, he zipped up his bag and left the room, walking over to the place where George had tended to Sapnap’s wounds. It was next to the fireplace, all of the medical things placed on the brick fireplace. He needed to clean up.

Forgetting his bag in the other room, he turned around and made his way back into the bedroom to grab his bag.

“Good morning, George,” a tired voice called, low and scruffy. George turned towards the voice and nodded a hello at Sapnap.

“Good morning. I’m going to go out this morning and look for supplies. We’re low on water and food. I was probably going to go hit up a supermarket in hopes that there is stuff left,” George paused, grabbing for his bag and throwing the strap over his shoulder, unzipping his bag and searching for a granola bar. “I won't be long. You think you’ll be okay on your own?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I know how to defend myself.”

“Good,” George nodded as he pulled out a granola bar, handing it to Sapnap so that he could eat it. “Eat this and then I’ll get you painkillers.”

Sapnap took the bar as he sat up, being careful of his injured leg. He opened up the granola bar and began to chow down on it, not having eaten anything other than another granola bar the day before.

George returned with 2 pills of ibuprofen and handed Sapnap his water, zipping up his bag before leaving the room. “I’ll leave wraps and some more granola bars out here if you need them.”

A tired and muffled “okay” was returned from the room and George left the building they rested in.

________________

May 14 2026 | 11:10

Tommy had gotten bored, honestly. He had snuck out of the ballroom while Wilbur was checking every nook and cranny that he could. He thought it was dumb how paranoid Wilbur could be. If anything happened they would all be ready for it.

Tubbo had already been fascinated by the piano, finding it useless to get his attention for entertainment. Fundy was focused on his old student as he played and soon all of them were distracted. He took this opportunity to steal Fundy’s bat while no one else was looking and made a run for it, exiting out the front of the building and he made his way out to the streets.

Wilburs old varsity jacket was tied around his waist, baseball bat gripped in his hand as he walked through the streets. The sky above was grey and the smell of the air indicated rain was coming. Tommy didn't care, though. Rain was refreshing, helping him feel cleaner than he was before. They didn't really have access to showers since it was too loud and too risky.

Rain began to trickle out of the sky, creating a soft ambiance that was a lot more pleasant than the wretched moans coming from the machinery. The rain dampened Tommy’s hair quickly, making the blond strands lose their fluff and stick against his forehead. His red and white baseball t-shirt also got wet, forcing him to throw on the varsity jacket. The jacket helped keep him dry from the rain, warming him from the cold droplets that scattered across his cheeks and landed on top of his nose. 

He was ready to smash shit.

Tommy began to cut through alleyways, moving through streets quickly just to get into cover once again. Every once and awhile, he would drag his fingers through his hair just to push it back. It stuck up awkwardly because of the rain. 

The bandages that covered his hands and arms were wet, making the skin underneath irritated and itchy. Seems like Tommy would have to change them once he got back home. There wasn't anything he was protecting with the bandaging, he just thought it made him look cooler. Like a street fighter. Fundy and Wilbur would yell at him about wasting resources but he never listened. He did what he wanted.

Tommy found himself in an old parking garage. The floors were completely destroyed, seeming to have been stepped on by an Enderman when the apocalypse first began. Enderman were now more tame, only going on rampages if you looked them in the eyes.

Loads of old machinery was here. Cars, ways of transportation, even deactivated creepers and spiders were here. Tommy looked at the sight with a small smirk, flipping and rotating the bat in his left hand while he walked towards a broken creeper. 

Lifting up the bat, he swung at the machinery, hitting and breaking apart mechanic joints and bones. He was able to knock off one of the legs, placing his foot on the leg and pushing it away from the main machine. It took a lot of effort, the leg being half of his height if it were stood up straight. 

The metal groaned and scratched against the ground, a loud metallic thud echoing from inside of the garage and out into the rainy weather. Tommy began to whack the mechanical leg, breaking apart the bits and pieces that were there. He wanted to turn the leg into rubble, hitting it as hard as he could to dislodge any parts that were attached. 

He was able to knock out some rods, knocking them off to the side. Wires poked out of the leg awkwardly as he smashed the machinery.

The rain poured harder, falling through the large holes in the parking garage. The floor began to have standing water in some places, Tommy stepping in and maneuvering in a puddle. He felt his socks dampen, a grumble emitting from his throat as he realized he would have to deal with wet socks later. He didn't, however, realize the mechanic groaning from a machine behind him.

The whirring sound of a machine gun caught his attention, however, as his gaze quickly flicked behind him he came face to face with a creeper. In a quick move, he dove behind the broken down creeper, skidding against the ground. His arm opened up from the contact of the concrete to the soft tissue. He wished he kept his sleeves rolled down at this moment, hissing as rainwater mixed with blood.

Thuds of footsteps made the ground shake, making Tommy have to shuffle around the broken down creeper. Hissing came from the machinery, indicating that it was preparing the guns again. Tommy had to look and see what was happening, needing to know if he should run or not, spotting the creeper staring down the rubble with whirring machine guns popping out of the sides.

Tommy scrambled to his feet and began to run, tripping over his feet and stumbling around in the standing water. The hissing grew louder as the guns prepared to fire, only to have a thud of stone and metal and the thumping of movement.

“Get out of here, kid!” A british voice yelled. Tommy turned to look at who threw the rock and spotted someone in a dark blue hoodie with a messenger bag. 

Tommy took this chance to make a run for it, grabbing the bat and a few scraps from the bot he smashed. He was out of the area before the creeper began to fire.

_________

George stared down the creeper after he threw the rock, holding another in his hand. His free hand held his messenger bad behind his back, keeping the front of his body safe from clutter to move around easier.

As the machine began to whirr he darted for a pillar to take cover, resting as much of his body against the pillar to protect himself. The pillar was made out of concrete, the same stone that the rest of the building was made out of.

Machine guns went off, the sound of firing emitting from the area. Bullets chipped away and bounced off of the pillar, slowly breaking away George's cover. It was only a certain amount of time before the bullets would reach George and, to be honest, the english man didn't know when the machinery would run out.

His gaze flicked to the left of him, trying to find a way to escape the situation he had put himself into. He saved a kid's life but at what cost. His own?

He had leaned too far to the left, a bullet grazing his arm and tearing through the hoodie, blood soaking into the hoodie that he wore. The blue color of it quickly turned a dark sickly purple. He gripped at the wound, blood quickly coating his hand as he tried to stop the bleeding.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a green and black flash moving into the parking garage. He searched for it, finding a person wearing a white mask with a smiley face on it, a green hoodie with black and white stripes going down the sleeves and black joggers. The person had a longbow, pulling back an arrow with a blue computer chip attached to the arrow. Once the person fired, the arrow lodged itself into the creeper, causing the creeper to scream and malfunction. The mystery person eyed George, running towards him before grabbing his free, yet hurt, arm. They were asking for them to leave, to go. 

George quickly took the memmo and began to run back home, the person following behind keeping their bow drawn with yet another arrow. George began to ponder if he would die today, if he would lose resources today. He wondered if he had gained yet another teammate, creating a team of 3 instead of a duo. The three musketeers.

The screeching from the creeper soon lulled into a silence, letting the rain take its place as the loudest thing to be heard once again. It was a lot more calming than anything mechanical wise. It made George feel calm again, his heart slowing down which helped his bleeding.

__________

May 14 2026 | 11:37

George had returned to the small apartment that housed both him and Sapnap. He had been followed the whole way by the mysterious character wearing a white mask with a smiley face.

“Its up a few floors but other than that it's not far. My buddy, Nick, stabbed him in the leg when we first met so he’s injured. Maybe sleeping. Call him Sapnap.” George told the person following behind him as he walked up the steps to the apartment they were staying in.

George got no reply from the masked person, only hearing the ascending clicks of shoes against stairs. The british man opened the door to the apartment and made his way inside, opening it for the masked person and the masked person made their way inside. 

As George was shutting the door, the masked person was snapping their fingers at him, trying to get his attention for something.

“What?”

The masked person pointed at the fireplace, the same place that Sapnap had sat the night before. The masked person bent over and picked up the wrap that was placed there, gesturing that they were going to patch George up.

George sighed and carefully removed the hoodie that he was wearing, his lighter blue shirt slightly stained with blood but just at the edge of the sleeve. George sat down on the brick to the fireplace and held out his arm to the masked person, watching them squat and carefully grabbing hold of his arm. The grip on his arm made George realize how calloused their hands were, wondering how skilled they were and what the person had been through during the apocalypse.

A sharp inhale sounded from the person as they paused, reluctant to even do anything it seemed. The person rubbed their thumb against George's forearm as if they were trying to relax George, instead relaxing themselves more. It was odd and George found it odd.

The person began to wrap his arm in the bandaging, the free hand moving from George’s forearm to his bicep instead, quickly but carefully wrapping the bandage around his arm to stop the bleeding. The person finished rather quickly, seeming to have had a lot of practice with patching up wounds. When the excess bandage was tucked away safely, the person never let go of his arm. They sat there, contemplating something, as if their next move would determine a lot with George. George felt uneasy, his brows furrowing at the masked person.

The masked person moved their hand back down to his forearm, pressing his hand against George’s and he took it carefully, rubbing his thumb against the back of his hand and then tapping it twice. It felt familiar to George, scarily familiar. The masked person stood and stared down at George as if they were waiting for something.

George fished through his mind, the gesture making his head swirl with thoughts and theories. He had one in particular but it couldn't be true, Clay was  _ dead _ , he knows this. 

“Wait…” George murmured as he stood, walking to the masked person.

He had made a connection. He never saw Clay die  _ officially _ . He never got to inspect his body. Clay was dragged away by the spider before anything else happened and, from what he has seen lately, that was odd behavior. The spiders only took people with them if they were alive and if the spiders felt like they were in danger.

George carefully reached up towards the masked person's head. Moving the hood down. Dirty blonde hair,  _ his _ dirty blonde hair. The british man felt his hand grow shakey, a deep breath exhaling from his lips as he placed his fingers on the mask, slowly moving it away. A kind face smiled softly back at him, a familiar face, a lovable face.

“Hi, George.” The masked person murmured quietly in that oh so familiar yet lovable voice.

“Clay—!” George quickly wrapped his arms around him, hugging him close as Clay picked his legs up to carry him. This was one of their most favorite ways to give a hug and George had missed it.

“Holy shit its you— I thought you were  _ dead!”  _ George told Clay, digging his face into Clay’s neck to try and hide his tears. He wasn't good at conveying and expressing emotion, always having felt awkward or embarrassed when he did show raw emotion. 

“Yeah, it's me. Spiders can't kill me.” Clay joked with a soft yet loving chuckle, carefully setting George back down. 

George didn't let go of the hug until he was placed on the ground, slowly moving his arms away from Clay to wipe away at the tears that pricked at his eyes. He looked up just to see that Clay had let himself cry willingly, spotting the shine of tear stains as well as new ones trickle down his face.

“Oh, you baby, don't cry.” George teased as he reached his hand up to place it on the side of Clay’s face, moving his thumb up to wipe away the tears for Clay. Clay shut his eyes, leaning into George’s touch as he let more fall from his eyes. A small, relief and joy filled chuckle came from Clay as he lifted his own hand and placed it up against George’s hand, seeming to hold it close and never wanting to let it go. 

“I never thought I would find you,” Clay murmured, his voice a bit shaky as he said so. George could only shake his head in disagreement.

“I couldn’t bring myself to leave. My brain kept me here just in case you  _ were _ alive… and here you are.” George murmured in a soft tone, scanning Dream’s face all over again. He missed studying the features, spotting a new one slashed right across his face. This scar was definitely from the spider. He could tell. 

He wanted to kiss the scar, love on the scar. He wanted to thank the spider for not killing Clay at that moment and just keeping him alive. But he couldn't do either. He didn't want to weird Clay out.

Clay must've noticed his staring, moving his face to where his scar was pressed against George’s hand, shutting his green eyes away from the rest of the world once more. His nose and lips were softly pressed against the english man's hand, a small smile pricking at the edges of the blonde boy's lips. 

“I never thought I’d see your face again…” George murmured, moving his injured arm up to Clay’s face, cupping his other cheek. The tips of his fingers lightly grazed and played with the golden strands on the back of his neck.

“You’re gonna get annoyed by my face sooner or later.” Clay teased, his lips brushing against George’s palm as he spoke. George smiled softly, his cheeks flushing a light pink from the comment and the gesture.

“Oh, ha ha. At this point I dont think I’ll be annoyed by it for awhile. But someday, maybe.” George teased back, moving his thumb across his nose to touch the scar that damaged his face. George didn't believe that his beauty was staggered because of the scar, it only made his appearance more unique to the male.

Clay wrapped his hand around Georges just a bit more, controlling where Georges hand was. He moved the middle of his palm closer to his lips before planting a few small kisses on his palm. George let out a soft chuckle as he did this, feeling the warm on the back of his hand disappear and arms wrapped around him once again, pulling him back into a hug. 

George wrapped his arms around Clay’s neck once again, pressing his whole body into the other male. It was as if he were a piece to a puzzle, trying to fit against Clay’s body. And he did, he fit perfectly. 

Clay buried his face in George's neck as much as possible, planting a small kiss below his jawline. It spoke words that were hard to be spoken aloud. George relaxed in Clay’s grip, leaning most of his body weight against Clay, closing his eyes and letting out a soft exhale. He wanted to stay like this but he had to take care of Sapnap.

“Let me show you around and introduce you to Sapnap, yeah?” George said, waiting for Clay to let go of George before he moved away from Clay. 

Clay hummed in agreement before he gave George a final squeeze, letting go of him and he tucked his hands in his pockets. 

“Show me around.”

George nodded, waving him along as he walked to the kitchen. The bedroom door was connected to the kitchen. 

“Kitchen here, living room there. We’ve only been here for a day so we’ve only used the fireplace and the bedrooms.” George said, moving to the bedroom door carefully and he slowly opened the door, not wanting to wake up Sapnap who could be sleeping.

Sapnap was awake, playing with pills that sat inside of the cap. He moved them around as if they were a toy for his entertainment. It's not like he had anything else to do.

“You finally showed up, what took you— Dream?!” Sapnap spoke, his eyes locked on the person that stood in front of him. He only recognized the person because of his outfit. If he wasn't wearing his hoodie, Sapnap would have no idea who the person would be.

“Ah, you’ve heard or seen of me.” Clay replied with a chuckle, looking down at George. “I may or may not have made a name for myself.”

“You are the guy that survived  _ the  _ den of spiders! George, how did you convince him to get here?” Sapnap questioned, pointing at “Dream” once again.

“I lived with him before the apocalypse started. I didn't know Dream was a person. I don't talk to people.” George admitted with a slight smile before taking in what Sapnap had said, “wait— you survived the subway system full of spiders?” 

Clay gave a short nod, “That's where the spider took me, after all. I’ll explain the story later tonight or something.” He admitted before leaving the room. “I’m gonna go grab my stash and move it here. It will only take me about 10 minutes or so.” 

And with that, Clay had left the room, leaving George warm with relief and Sapnap confused with questions.


	6. Deep Nest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not posting on Sunday or yesterday!! I have had severe writers block and now I dont have access to my phone anymore since I'm also procrastinating on homework. 
> 
> If you want to see more content of this, check out @za.k.ai on instagram or @za-k-ai on Tumblr. I dont have access to either of them at the moment but hey, there's written references and some fanart to look at!
> 
> I will be posting sporadically until I can get caught up so I apologize of it takes forever to get a chapter out or if it seems like I just posted a chapter and then posted another. Just bare with me!
> 
> THIS CHAPTER IS SO SHORT I AM SO SORRY ASDJFALKSDJFA

May 14 2026 | 21:53

The night had fallen, crickets and bugs chirping and filling the night. The rain had stopped only a few hours before, causing the air to cool. The only light that illuminated in the room was the small fire lit in the fireplace. Windows were open to help circulate the air but that cost the three inhabitants warmth.

Nick had himself seated on the couch, waiting for when Clay would finish setting out his things, watching him as he put nuts and bolts in specific spots in the kitchen. Clay had made the kitchen his workshop, setting out tools and things as well. 

As Nick watched, he noticed other eyes focused on Clay. He turned his gaze towards George who was seated on the floor, picking up the medical things that were scattered on the floor. George had pulled out the supplies to change Nick’s bandages since they were gross and in need of changing. 

Nick could only chuckle, seeing the look that George was giving to Clay. To the man, the myth, the legend himself. He moved his good leg and kicked George lightly, eyeing him with a teasing yet knowing glance.

George just turned and looked at Nick with a confused glance, hitting his shin with the back of his hand. George only shook his head as he looked back down at his supplies, putting them all away with his cheeks slightly tinted pink.

“Alright.” Clay said suddenly, making George flinch just a smidge. He was loud. “You two ready for story time?”

Nick nodded, moving himself further against the couch to get comfortable. Albeit, the couch was really uncomfortable and only had enough space for not even one person but it was enough

Clay smiled and weaved his way around the kitchen and into the living room, taking a seat next to George with a smile on his face, looking at the English man mischievously. 

“Are  _ you _ ready for story time?” Clay asked, receiving a chuckle and a nod from George before he went back to rolling up the bandage wrap.

Clay just smiled at George as he worked, draping his arm around George’s shoulders and he pulled George obnoxiously to his side. “So, the story of how I got out of the spider’s den, yeah?”

Nick only nodded, wanting to listen in and take in tips on what to do if he was put in the same situation. It could happen.

“Listen up cuz it's a long one and I’m not repeating it.” Clay said before he began his storytelling.

_________

3 days after the apocalypse had begun

  
  


It was dark. That’s the only thing Clay took in when he first woke. His body ached and his face stung painfully. He wasn't sure where he was or where he was taken. The only thing he could pick up was the skittering noises of concrete and the small mechanical ticks and hissed echoing throughout the stone walls. 

His body ached, his face felt sticky and dry as well as his back and his left forearm. All he could feel was the ache in his bones whenever he shifted around.

The next thing that kicked in was the smell. It was rotten. Clay could smell the decay of many things, making him gag and cough. His retches echoed throughout the cave, causing a screeching sound to emit from the darkness. 

Clay felt his eyes widen, straining in their sockets as he tried to force his eyes to dilate. They couldn’t, having to adjust on their own over time. The blonde hated this, having to rely on sound and hoping he wouldn't trip over any bodies. Occasionally, he would use his feet to quickly sweep the floor, looking for an entrance to whatever covered the floor. The smell was awful but it was something he couldn't avoid, not unless he got out of this den. To be honest, he was going to call it a den until proven otherwise, still unsure of where he was as details of corners began to focus into view. He had a hard time trying to see regardless, his senses getting overloaded with the sounds of death and the scent of the decaying. He was panicked, moving along the floor recklessly as he maneuvered from where he was. 

His limbs felt weak, his arms and legs shaky from being unconscious for so long. Of course, it had only been two days of unconsciousness but at the same time it had been  _ two days of unconsciousness _ . It wasn't the same as having someone assist you while being knocked out, no one there to shove feeding tubes in your nose and down your throat. No one there to funnel water to you as you lay asleep, unknowing of when you would wake again.

Clay wondered how he had managed to stay alive, keeping his eyes wide and gaze locked on the floor. More and more details started to appear, noticing dead bodies on the floor that were mangled and torn to pieces. Limbs lay strayed away from their respected person, organs and guts lay on the floor. He spotted a beaten up heart on the floor next to a piece from someone's rib cage. 

It clicked in his mind what was happening here, spotting silverfish rummaging around in the bodies. One came out of a chest, having created a crater in a body that was once living. He felt bile rise in his throat, backing away and he bent over, hands on his knees as he let the bile loose on the floor. He retched, clearing his throat and spitting out whatever lingered. What lay on the floor in front of him was just stomach acid, not having any food in his system. Vomiting made his shakiness worse, feeling his body becoming significantly weaker.

“Fuck…” he hissed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stood up straight, walking away quickly from the area. He wanted out and he wanted out  _ fast _ .

_________

Clay had found a small corner, a hole in the wall almost. It had an opening to a separate room, a hole big enough to fit a person or two but small enough to keep out any spiders. He was able to find lighter fluid, having drenched pieces of clothing he stole from others and wrapped it around a long piece of plywood. He had gotten new clothes as well, finding and taking a green hoodie that was a little big on him but it worked enough. He found someone who had gotten back from shopping, pulling out a turtleneck and joggers, slipping them both on to use. He had also stolen fingerless gloves off of a corpse. Of course, they wouldn't need the clothes anyway.

Clay was lucky enough to find a lighter, having taken it from a dead smoker. There was still a little bit of fuel left in it. The smell of lighter fluid took over the smell of decaying flesh, finding the smell better than the rot that filled his nostrils before.

His wounds have healed just a bit, having been a week since he has been down in the cave. He was ready to get out. He had been snacking on whatever he could find from the people that lay dead on the cold floor. Sometimes he got lucky and found someone who had groceries on them even if they had been dragged away. It amazed him people had that grip.

Moving towards the entrance of the hole, he carefully climbed out of it, not wanting to trip and hurt himself or make a loud clang and alert any of the spiders. Of course, the light would alert them enough… but that was his distraction. That was his only way out.

Sticking close to the walls, he began to move, his hand planted against the wall and grazing the tough concrete. He felt the tips of his fingers go raw, helping him clear his head of his fears of dying and focusing on the task at hand. It was a way out and he can't back out of this now. He was so close. He could feel it.

Clay paused in his tracks, taking in a deep breath, one that he feared would be his last and he brought the lighter up to the cloth. Flicking it on, he lit the cloth that was drenched in lighter fluid and watched as the cloth erupted into flames. The soft cream color quickly faded into a brown-burnt color, shedding whatever comfort it had left in it. 

Screeches from demons erupted in the cave as he could now see the illuminated reflection against the robotic spiders. They all stared at him, the light causing their red eyes to become illuminated and he could now see the true colors. The face he had once put himself in front of so many days before. Clay felt his body tense as one mecha began to run towards him, the gears in his head seeming to be clogged by the rust of fear.

The spider began to sprint towards Clay, causing him to turn on his heel and sprint. The pavement below him made a screeching noise due to the quick turn, making his arms pump faster to try and outrun the machine. It lunged towards Clay, screeching as it flung itself into the sky, causing Clay to roll to the side which messed with the flame. More and more spiders moved towards him, leaving and revealing sunlight. Clay realized that some spiders were tasked to cover any exits from the underground, plunging the area in complete darkness. He could only see exits, the lights not helping him see any further than he could.   
  


Noticing another spider too close to comfort, he stopped in his tracks and faced inwards, trying to guess where he first was when he arrived. He had been climbing and moving quietly for a week, losing sense of why he should continue to move on. He was losing the reasons why he needed to survive so he began to make up ideas for him to have a grip on.   
  


He remembered how the sky looked when the sub began to set, an array of colors mixing together in an ombre mix, blending colors of red, orange and purple. He remembered how the stars slowly trickled into view, speckling the sky as if the sky owned its own freckles to show off. He missed counting the constellations, searching and spotting his most favorite ones. He even searched for his own zodiac sign, having no knowledge over zodiacs other than he knew that he was a Leo. He missed the way that the sky changed when the sun rose again for another day, foretelling a new story in a new chapter that may or may not change history. He missed the sounds of birdsong and the way the waves crashed upon the shoreline. He missed the way the pavement smelled after a heavy rain, cleansing the concrete of any dirt or grime that stuck in the crevices.    
  


He missed laughter. He missed petty arguments. He missed the way he could change someone's mood for the better, just by saying a simple sentence. He missed inside jokes and games that he could play with another, a game that only the two of them knew. It made him look like an idiot in public but he didnt care. He missed the subtle brushes of fingertips. He missed longing hugs that seemed to last for hours but in reality lasted a few minutes. He missed playing with the soft black hair that combed easily through his fingertips as another slowly fell asleep in his lap. He missed stupid pranks and late night talks, finding himself wiith company or in a different room. 

He missed George. He had to see him again.

Taking in a deep breath, he pulled his arm back and launched the flaming stick behind a flock of spiders, now seeing that he was distracting and diverting around twenty instead of just two. Every spider began to dart towards the flaming cloth, completely seeming to ignore the escaped prey that stood beside the machines. Taking this chance, he spotted the closest exit and made a run for it, drowning out the sounds of scratching metal and lifeless screeching, pumping his arms and legs harder than he ever has in his whole life. He needed to survive. He needed to live.

And he did.

He made it out onto the surface, running as far as he could. Running until he couldn't run anymore. He collapsed in an alleyway, not noticing the three figures behind him as they walked towards his fallen self. 

“That was quite a run, greenie.” One of them said, having a deep and melochic voice. The voice sounded disinterested yet interested at the same time, causing Clay to look up at the person standing in front of him. The only thing he could see was an outline of pink hair with a thick silver strand weaved into a braid. The person also had pink neon lights outlining areas of his clothes as he stuck his hand out towards Clay.

“What’s your name, kid?” The voice asked as Clay slowly reached out and took the hand willingly.

“C-...” He paused, closing his eyes and squeezing them shut as he thought. “Dream,” he concluded, looking up at a now faintly illuminated, scarred up face. 

“Good to meet you, Dream. I’m Technoblade.”


	7. Man in the Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check my socials for concept sheets of each character! (They’re written) :
> 
> Instagram : @za.k.ai  
> Twitter : @za_k_ai

May 14 2026 | 11:25

Wilbur had always found the rain peaceful, loving whenever he had the chance to walk in it and relax his mind. It made him feel refreshed, ready to take on whatever challenges were thrown his way. Right now, however, he hated the rain. It obstructed his vision as he searched for the runaway gremlin child. 

Wilbur had left his beanie at home, the rain wetting and making his hair damp. Every once and awhile he would duck his head to just ruffle his own hair. He released a stressed sigh, tucking his hands into his pockets.

He didn't like it when Tommy ran off like this, disappearing without a word just because he was bored and wanted to do something else. It annoyed him, finding that when Tommy usually did this he ended up getting himself into trouble in one way or another. The worst trouble he had gotten into was raiding someones camp, taking a few of their items which made Wilbur force Tommy to give them back to their respective owners. 

Wilbur continued to walk, eyeing a parking garage in the far distance. He had wondered if maybe Tommy had trekked that far, walking casually towards the building. The sound of machine gun fire startled him, however, making his blood run cold and forcing himself to run towards the noise. If Tommy was there with that machine, Wilbur wouldn't know what to do. He has barely escaped a Creeper on his own, getting a nasty wound on his left side that will be scarred and splotched forever. 

He had made it to the garage, hearing a sound that was unfamiliar to him. It sounded like a disturbance in circuitry, clacking and buzzing coming from the parking garage. He didn't care to check, however, seeing a tall blonde boy wearing his old varsity jacket running away from the garage. He was clutching his arm, red seeping in and showing through on a white bandage

Wilbur ran for him, sprinting after the boy that he claimed to be his younger brother, even if he wouldn't admit it vocally, and he grabbed at his shoulder, pulling him to face the 23 year old.

“What the hell were you thinking, Thomas?!” He shouted, Wilbur’s face full of fear yet relief. He was stressed and a stressed tone vibrated in his voice. His voice even cracked a bit.

“I’m sorry, Wil. I—“

“I dont want to hear it, okay?” He hissed, cutting off the younger boy. “You cant keep doing this! Running off without a word because you’re bored and you want to do something else—“ his voice cut painfully, causing him to stagger and catch his breath

A long pause occured as Wilbur bowed his head, clutching Tommy’s shoulder with his hand that still lay on. He took in a large breath before speaking again, looking back at the younger boy.

“I gave you that jacket for a reason, Tommy. You know this. If you werent ever adopted I would take _you and Tubbo_ _in_. I would adopt both of you, Fundy and I would take you in. That was my promise. I cant have you dying on me over something stupid, okay?”

Tommy only stared up at the adult, clenching his teeth together and he forced down a swallow, trying to string together sentences that would maybe make Wilbur feel a little bit better, he couldn't, though, knowing that he would need time before he could say anything about it. 

“Lets go back, yeah?” Wilbur said before letting go of his shoulder and he began his trek back to the ballroom. 

Tommy hated the tension that was there, however, the silence speaking many words of anger and fear. He was just walking in Wilbur’s tsunami of emotions, and honestly, Tommy hated it. He hated when he did this to him and Fundy. He hated when he scared them… but he wanted to make a gift…

He figured the gift would have to wait to be made and delivered.

His eyes looked down towards his bleeding arm, seeing that the bandage wrap that he wore for aesthetics was ripped and torn, moist with the mixture of blood and rain water.

Tommyinnit was not prepared for the backlash he would receive from Fundy, knowing that the Dutch man was harsher with words than Wilbur is.

_________

May 14 2026 | 12:42

Fundy paced around the ballroom, picking up and moving things around as if he were tidying his own house, expecting guests to arrive for dinner. Tubbo watched him move around, noticing that the 20 year old was doing this just to keep his head leveled. He could tell that Fundy was doing this to try and tone down his stress. In all truthfulness, Fundy didn't want to think about what situation Tommy had gotten himself into. 

He quickly stopped what he was doing once he heard the doors to the front open and close, standing up straight and he paced quickly towards the two wet males standing at the front.

“Where the  _ hell _ were you, Tommy?!” Fundy yelled, teeth clamped and shown. His sharper-than-normal K-9’s visible. Honestly, Tommy always found his k9’s to be scary to him, especially in situations like this. It helped give off more hostility than what was being used.

“I was out.” Tommy replied, holding onto his bleeding arm. Wilbur had left the two alone for just a moment to get medical wrap for Tommy’s arm.

“And why didn't you tell Wil or myself that you were leaving?” Fundy hissed, crossing his arms in a disappointed-parent way.

“Because you and Wilbur were having a  _ moment _ .”

“A mome— that doesn't excuse you to ditch without a word. You took my  _ bat  _ of all things. That is my weapon of defense and you don't even have it with you! Did you drop it? What even happened while you were out there?!”

Tommy paused, wondering if he would be able to come up with a valid excuse. He realized he wouldn't be able to, Wilbur probably heard of the situation hence why he was so scared.

“He encountered a creeper. I don't know what he was doing to attract its attention but he was probably smashing shit.” Wilbur told Fundy as he walked over to Tommy, removing the old wrap and applying the new one.

Fundy could only sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose while his free hand held onto his side. “I told you not to make noise. That is the  _ number one _ rule in the apocalypse and your dumbass decided to break it. What if something happened to you, huh? What if you were torn to shreds by a brigade of bullets? What would we do? We would have to search and find your lifeless and mangled body!” 

“Fundy, thats enough.” Wilbur cut in, cutting off Fundy’s words as he shouted at the boy in front of him. The others couldn't see it but Wilbur could feel the shaking boy tremor as he wrapped his arm.

“Why should I? He needs to know that doing what he did is awful and completely inconsiderate to the rest of us! He needs to know—“

“ _ Floris, I said that was enough.” _ Wilbur repeated, stopping what he was doing just to emphasize his words as best as possible. He could see Fundy clamp his jaw down, his mandible poking out on each side as he did so.

“I’m going for a walk,” he hissed in a low whisper, moving towards his things to find his mask and take his bag just in case he came across anything to scavenge. He put the mask over his face and left the building, leaving Wilbur to sit in guilt and anger. 

Wil was angry that Fundy lashed out at Tommy like he did but he knew it was needed. Wilbur finished wrapping up his arm and let Tommy go, nudging his head in the direction where Tubbo quietly sat.

“Thank you…” he murmured as he drew back his arm and walked over to his friend who was politely laying on the floor, studying the roof of the ballroom they were living in.

Wilbur sighed, feeling his head getting clogged with thoughts and emotions. He hated when he got like this, false words coating the truth and the voices in his head got loud,  _ too loud _ . He moved himself into a separate room, a backroom almost. The ballroom had a hallway that held a few bathrooms and a dressing room as well for guests and performers alike.

He entered into one of the bathrooms, checking to see if the water was able to run smoothly, knowing the water in these pipes were old and muggy. Wilbur turned on the water, having to turn a dial in order to get water flowing. Yellowy water spluttered out of the faucet and he quickly turned it off, knowing that the water was contaminated and probably wasn't going to be clean anytime soon.

A mirror was placed in front of him, seeming to mock him by using his own imagery to trick his brain even more. He looked up, brown eyes staring into brown as his reflection started to become distorted. 

_ Your wants are going to kill them _

_ You know this _

The words kept repeating, filling his head with shouts and screams. Wilbur’s eyes shut tightly as he bowed his head to try and drown out the shouts. He didn't recognize the voices that were yelling at him to stop caring, to stop wanting affection and to just protect them instead.

_ I could have died today because of your wants _

Wilbur opened his eyes again, expecting to see his own reflection in the mirror. Instead, a 6’3 blonde boy with glossy and empty blue eyes. His hair was covered in grime and dirt, damp with what seemed to be blood. His clothes were torn and mangled and Wilbur could spot a bloodied mess of holes in his body, seeing bones that he should not be seeing.

_ Because you were too busy doing what you wanted _

_ I could have died _

_ And it would have been on you _

_ You know this _

_ You know this _

_ You know— _

Glass shattered, causing Wilbur to come out of his trance, realizing what had happened. His fist was lodged into the mirror, glass cutting into his hand and letting blood trickle out of his flesh. Scarlet stained the sharp edges and trickled down the mirror, onto the white marble countertop below him.

Footsteps could be heard running down the hall, echoing and bouncing off of the walls as the steps got louder.

Wilbur pulled his fist from the mirror, seeing a stone brick wall behind the mirror. Glass stuck out of his hand in odd shapes, mocking him as they reflected in the dim light.

“Wilbur?” A voice called from the doorway, causing his gaze to scan upwards and spot the two in the doorway. Tubbo was the one to speak, Tommy standing behind him with his hands on the shorter boy’s shoulders.

Wilbur huffed out a sigh and walked towards the only exit in the bathroom, causing Tommy and Tubbo to move out of the way and let him past. 

Tommy and Tubbo exchanged worried glances with each other, Tubbo shrugging his shoulders and Tommy leading the way to the main room.

Wilbur had seated himself in a seat in a far corner of the ballroom, picking out pieces of glass that sat in his hand. Each pull caused his hand to throb and bleed more, feeling as if his hand was now his heart even though he could feel the fast pace of his heart rattling in his chest. Glass pieces fell to the ground, clattering against the tiled floor every time a piece was removed. 

Wilbur had his head bowed, his peripheral void of the two boys that coexisted with him in the ballroom. His uninjured hand grabbed for the medical wrap as he uncomfortably wrapped his hand up. He wrapped his hand a little too tight as well, pressing down on the bruising which made the throbbing worse. He didn't care, though, it would stop eventually.

Soft murmurs echoed through the room, the murmurs too quiet for Wilbur to understand but he had a feeling that the whispers were about him. He stood, walking to the front of the ballroom, just to open its doors and stand at the entrance. His good hand reached out and pushed open the doors, hiding his right (and injured) hand away as blood seeped into the white cloth and made it turn. 

Once Wilbur made it to the entrance and sat, he heard scurrying footsteps run towards the hallway where the dressing room was. Where the  _ bathroom  _ was. The british soul huffed and shook his head, his gaze locked on the damp ground from the ongoing rain. He wondered when Fundy would return,  _ if  _ he would return.

God, he hoped Fundy came back.

His view was changed, however, when black boots with a red glowing rim and track shoes with blue glowing rim. He didn't recognize them. Wilbur’s gaze flicked upwards at the two. One was wearing a laser-tech mask, horns sticking out as if the person was the devil. Black plastic reflected from the lighting in the ballroom while a pair of red eyes and a red, fanged smile glowed. It gave the mask contrast. The other was wearing a black mask as well but instead of having a fearful intent, it was childish. A goofy glowing blue face was plastered on it. 

They stood in their odd clothing, one having a hench coat like jacket, black covering the whole jacket while it was outlined with red. The sleeves had a line down it, a circle interrupting the line near the elbows. The back was longer than the front, he noticed. 

The other had an offwhite jacket with blue accents at the cuffs, the hood and on the sides of the arms. He wears white joggers that are somehow still clean even after dealing with rain and mud. Wilbur gave him kudos in his head on how clean it was.

“Who are you?” Wilbur asked, his brows furrowing at the sight of them. He was confused. Promptly, he stood, towering over and looking down at the two as they looked at one another before looking back at him. They just stared, making Wilbur’s skin itch in a sense of paranoia.

You should have listened to that paranoia, Wilbur.

Quickly, a cloth was thrown onto his face, covering his mouth and nose completely. He was slammed against the half, closed door, hitting the crash bar that was used to open the door. He gasped in pain, taking in the scent of chemicals and his mind went hazy.

_ Chloroform  _

He thought before his vision blurred and he felt his body slowly lose consciousness. The last thing he could remember was the sound of the rain and the pressure of ropes tying him up, his body being hustled into a bag of sorts. It covered his whole body, drowning his sight with black. He embraced it as his head finally drifted to sleep.


	8. On the inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check my socials for concept sheets of each character! (They’re written) :
> 
> Instagram : @za.k.ai  
> Twitter : @za_k_ai

May 15 2026 | 9:45

  


The morning light shone through the window, chopped up by old blinds that were dusty and in desperate need of replacing. The sunlight that came through the window only rested on two, leaving the other man in the room in the shadows. 

  


One out if the three men were awake, relaxing in the moment as he was able to take in the peaceful setting. The british man had his head resting against the flordian’s chest, listening to the slow rhythm of his heartbeat. George’s head rose and fell with Clay’s breathing but George honestly didn't mind. It was another factor that reminded him that Clay was  _ alive _ , something that he didn't think was possible until yesterday.

  


A small smile crept onto his lips, his mind finally taking in the information that all of this wasn't a dream. George closed his eyes, moving his fist that was placed on Clay’s chest around his body, placing his hand on his side. George moved closer to Clay, tucking his face into his neck and moving a leg over one of Clay’s. He was comfortable.

  


Clay seemed to stir just a little bit, moving a hand to his head. George was laying on the arm that it was connected to, his other arm resting against his stomach and his hand holding onto George’s elbow. Clay turned his head towards George, hiding his nose in the dark brunette hair and exhaling slowly.

  


George honestly didn't want the day to go on. He wanted time to freeze in this moment, locking it in to sit in forever. He wouldn't have to worry about the machines searching to kill them all the time, he wouldn't have to worry about the time, he would never grow hungry or tired, he would just lay there in peace.

  


The british man slowly reopened his eyes, seeing Sapnap sitting up in his bed and inspecting his bandaged leg. He had kept his eyes off of the other two, seeming to go unbothered of the situation they were currently in. Or maybe he hadn't noticed yet.

  


George let out a small exhale, closing his eyes once more. The sigh caught Sapnap’s attention, turning his head towards the two and their entangled mess. He smiled softly at them, glad that they were able to find peace in this apocalyptic era. 

  


“How cute…” he murmured, causing George to smile a little bit more. 

  


He remembered before the apocalypse, they used to cuddle a lot. It was mostly for Clay’s benefit, being more of a physical person than anything else. If Clay was upset, they would cuddle. It helped him forget the situation that was stressing him out, helping his mind clear and completely blank. If Clay ever needed a blank headspace, George was there to assist him. 

  


However, it was a mutual platonic thing. They only did this with each other and would stop when one or the other got a significant other. That doesn't mean that George sometimes wished for something else. He always had that in the back of his head.  _ What if we were more? _

  


He was too scared to say anything, however, fearful that Clay would be repulsed by the idea and kick him out of their shared apartment. George feared that he would have to go back to England, not having anything there besides family. 

  


He didn't want to have to search for another Clay

  


Clay began to stir again, moving his head away and breathing in deeply as if he were waking up. The hand that was on George’s elbow moved to his face to help block the sun from his eyes. George kept his eyes closed, wanting to pretend that he was asleep so that he could stay in this position longer. Clay wouldn't get up if he was still asleep, right?

  


George heard a soft “Good morning” coming from Sapnap. A small chuckle erupted from Clay, making George hold onto him tighter. It was as if he was trying to hug him. The hand that was on the back of his hand began to move, fingers combing through the brunettes hair. George relaxed his grip and felt himself become drowsy once again, leaning more of his body weight against the floridian. 

  


“Good morning.” Clay replied in a soft whisper as he continued to play with George’s hair. He had a goofy smile on his face as he laid there with him.

  


“Seems like you got yourself in a mess,” Sapnap replied, chuckling a soft bit as he flicked his gaze between Clay and George. He was watching for facial expressions. One thing that Sapnap noticed was how pink Clay’s cheeks were.

  


“Oh, haha.” Clay said sarcastically, keeping the rhythm in his hand going as he combed through George’s hair. George felt himself drift back to sleep as the conversation seemed to lull to a stop.

  


Ten minutes passed before Sapnap spoke up again, looking at Clay with a curious glance. “How did you guys meet?”

  


“We met online through similar interests. We were both in our teens when we met, about fourteen or so? Or at least I was fourteen. I think he was sixteen. Whenever we both had graduated highschool, we decided we were going to go to the same college up in New York. We roomed together in dorms and soon moved out to an apartment instead. I was able to graduate early, having skipped two grades.” Clay told, moving his hand to George’s back to give the british sleeping man a back rub instead of a head scratch. He turned to face towards George, watching as his body rose and fell with each breath he took.

  


“That explains why you two are so close.” Sapnap observed, a small, mischievous smile forming on his face, “Do you like him?”

  


Clay flicked his head back towards Sapnap, eyeing him as if he were crazy yet the coloring on his cheeks told otherwise. “You’re crazy.”

  


“No, I don't think I am,” Sapnap teased, giggling a soft bit. “I think you’re into him,”

  


“... you’re crazy, Nick.” 

  


“Maybe I am, Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m crazy to say that George is also into you,” Sapnap teased some more, standing up to see if he could stand on his leg any better than two days ago. He could.   
  
Sapnap made his way out of the room, heading into the kitchen to see if he could find anything to eat. His eyes scanned the counter, only finding a few water bottles and a single bar of granola left.   
  
“Hey, Dream! We’re out of food.” Sapnap called to him, receiving a groan from the other man.    
  
“Please tell me you’re joking.”   
  
“Nope, and I’m eating the last granola bar whether you like it or not.”    
  
Clay just sighed in response, turning his head towards the person laying on top of him. He needed to get up and gather food, water and other supplies. It was always best to do it during the day, not wanting to get caught in the night with the skeletons and creepers who were highly active at that time.    
  
He moved his hand back to George’s hair, playing with the strands once again as he tried to wake him up. “George… wake up, I have to get up.” He murmured to him, loud enough to wake but quiet enough to where it wouldn’t startle him.   
  
George woke slowly, grumbling and hiding his face away from the sun. The british man didn't want to wake up yet, loving the warmth and security he felt. George mumbled something incoherent, causing Clay to let out a soft chuckle before rolling his body out and away from George. “I have to go and get supplies or else  _ someone  _ is gonna be cranky all day because they’re hungry.”   
  
George just opened one eye slightly, eyeing the blonde man that stood in front of him. He raised his hand, flipping off the floridian before turning onto his other side and pulling the sheet up to his face, attempting to embrace sleep once again.   
  
Clay could only chuckle at him as grabbing his shoes which were at the side of the bed. He walked out of the room and into the main room where Sapnap was, leaning against the counter and eating the last granola bar.  _ Why did George only have granola bars? _   
  


Clay grabbed for his bag that was laying on the floor, hoisting it over his shoulders and he pulled his mask over his face. He also picked up his longbow, gathering up some of his rigged arrows as well as regular ones to keep himself equipped for defense.

  


“I should be back around noon.” Clay said, flicking his hood up and he made his way out of the apartment and down the steps. Sapnap only shook his head, murmuring something softly to himself. “What if you  _ don't  _ come back?”

  


_ Who would know? _

_ ______________ _

  


Clay stepped carefully down the steps, having felt unstable they were during his descent, creaking underneath his feet in age.

  


The air was cold, biting at any exposed skin. Clay could feel the chill in his fingers as he gripped his backpack straps. He wondered what types of shops were around and if they had any sort of food. He hoped for it, not wanting to starve. If he couldn't find anything he would urge for the others to relocate. 

  


He wondered how people did it, picked a spot and hunkered down even though their supplies were depleting. He didn't know.

  


The mask that he wore didn't falter his vision, having engineered it inside of Technoblades camp. They had an insane amount of technology, having decided to make camp in one of the old End-Tech establishments. The ones that were built in New York, California and Maine were powerhouses. Any big projects happened at these locations. The HQ of End-Tech was undisclosed, however, no one really knew where it was.

  


Clay didn't want to look for it, not wanting to come in contact with that group again. What he saw with them was something he never wanted to experience again. 

  


He saw an innocent man get murdered right in front of him.

  


His eyes landed on a gas station, making his way towards the establishment with haste. He wanted to get back to his group as soon as possible. Anything could happen if you’re outside long enough. Haste is everything.

  


A click was heard from a distance and he turned his head towards the noise, seeing a rope with weights on the end. The rope caught his legs, bringing them together and tying themselves around his legs, pulling them backwards. He felt his body fall forwards, bracing himself with his arms to break his fall. He fell to the ground with a thud, grunting as he came in contact with concrete. 

  


A pair of mechanical wings came into view, combat boots standing in his vision and he knew exactly who he was dealing with.

  


“Well, Philza, it's been awhile hasn't it?” Clay asked, eyeing him through his mask.

  


Philza only shook his head, looking up and away from Clay. Pressure was placed on his back from a foot, grunting from the weight. He felt his hands being grabbed at and put behind him, tying him up.

  


“So glad you remember us, Dream.” A deep, british voice hissed, pulling the masked man up harshly. Eret came into Clay’s vision, looking at his face with a smile.

  


“So glad you got glasses to see, Eret. Didn't know I blinded you that bad.” Clay retorted, putting on a tough demeanor to make sure that he didn't seem frightened with the situation.

  


Erets' expression changed from subtle hatred to anger, pushing Clay against one of the metal poles that helped steady the gas station. Clay’s head hit the pole, the momentum throwing his head back even though he held it sturdy. A headache began to throb. 

  


“Don't make me knock you out.” Eret murmured in a low grumble, pushing him and keeping him in place. It's not like he could move, anyway. 

  


“I’d like to see you try.” Clay retorted, regretting his choice of words right as they fell out of his mouth. Eret quickly raised his fist, pulling it back and he swung right at Clay’s face. The force made his head jerk backwards into the pole again, knocking him unconscious from both angles. Clays mask also chipped down the center, revealing some of his lower chin and his lip.

  


“Eret—“ Philza called as he grabbed for his companions arm, pulling him back to try and reduce any more damage he could cause. “Technoblade wants him alive. Let’s keep it that way, yeah?”

  


Eret huffed and pushed Dream's body towards Phil, making him carry the knocked out man. He began his walk back to their base, wanting to get home and away from  _ that green bastard  _ as soon as possible.

_________

  


May 15 2026 | 12:12

  


Wilbur slowly awoke from his sleep, his head aching and his nose congested. The room he was in was pitch black, no light seeping through anything. The british man tried to move, his body jolting because of restraints. His wrists ached from what seemed to be rope holding his wrists together behind his back. His shoulders also ached from the awkward setup. Twisting his wrists, Wilbur recognized the straw and cotton feeling, identifying that the restraint was rope. 

  


A sigh escaped his lips as he felt how sore his body began to feel. His legs were also tied to the legs of the chair he was sitting on. The door opened into the room, a bright blinding light causing Wilbur to turn his head and squint, eyeing the figure that contrasted the bright white light. His head began to throb at the sudden light contrast, causing his eyes to dilate a little bit too quickly.

  


Metallic clanking came from the figure as it began to walk, each step sounding off a loud clang. Wilbur felt his heart drop in his chest. He was going to die from a skeleton, right here, right now. The skeleton stopped right in front of Wilbur, causing a confused hum to buzz in his throat. The skeleton had not bolted at him either, walking at a controlled pace. What's with this robot?

“What do you know about Dream?” A voice called from the door as it closed shut. A light flickered on above Wilbur’s head and it shone down on him, illuminating the stray curls of his hair.

  


“Dream? The mask man? I don't really know anything.” Wilbur told the person, gaining a strike to the face by the robot. The robots fists weren’t metal, however, having a slight squish to them. It still hurt, nonetheless. There would definitely be a mark there later.

  


“You have to know something. We spotted you exit the same place he did with a little boy. I won't take any dodgy answers.”

  


“I don't know anything. I went there to find my little brother since he decided to run off. I didn't even know—“ another strike to the face, directly on the jaw. A grumble came from Wilbur as he moved his jaw around just to make sure he could still use it. 

  


“I said…  _ no dodgy answers _ . Look. Our guys have been out for too long getting Dream. We know where his position is. We haven't heard anything from them either, we just need to know where he is and what affiliation you have with him.”

  


“I told you, I don't know anything about him other than he's the man in the mask that survived the spiders den.” Wilbur retorted, lunging his body from the chair to make a statement. The robot pushed him back against the chair, getting a hit straight on the nose. 

  


Wilbur coughed, fighting the stinging in his nose. He felt the urge to sneeze, the sensitive organ irritated over the strike. Blood began to flow from his nose, sliding down his face and staining its path in red, eventually falling onto his lap and staining the pants he wore. The blood was warm compared to everything else and Wilbur realized how cold it was. He could see his own breath.

The door reopened and another 2 people could be seen, carrying a slouched over man. One had a glowing outline of wings while the other had curly hair, just like him. 

  


“Techno wants a look at both of them. Quickly.” A deeper voice called, one that came from the chest instead of the throat.

  


The person that was interrogating him gave a nod, blue light coming from him, Wilbur realized, outlining his figure. 

  


“Alright. Bring him with. Out of the chair.”

  


The robot seemed to nod, untying Wilbur’s legs and untying his hands from the chair yet the restraints that bounded his hands together stayed. Wilbur felt his body being lifted by his arms as he was quickly dragged out of the room and more of the building came into view.

  


He recognized it. He had only been in one of these buildings once. The walls were white, black circuit-like lining covering the middle of the wall. Old, decaying posters and papers were scattered along the walls, stating dates and events that have long passed, not having happened due to the apocalypse caused by this company. Windows lined most of the walls, however, showing a view of the robot-ridden city. An Enderman stood close by the building as if it were an assigned watchman.

  


The room they were walking through was just a long hallway, leading towards a large set of double doors that seemed rather difficult to open. The doors were black with a red outline, white words painted on the door reading “HeadQuarters”. This was the main office.

  


The doors opened, revealing a large room with a ton of windows, the windows completely taking over any wall that was there. A desk was seated at the middle in the back, foreboding power. At the desk a man with long pink hair could be seen. The hair had the sides and the underside shaved off, only leaving the top to be long and braided. A thick white strand of hair contrasted the pink, braided into the pink hair and giving its own knot a white color.

  


His face was scarred, Wilbur saw before he put on a pig-like mask and stood. He wore a cloak of sorts, hiding away military-like armor that seemed to make him look more physically built. His arms and hands were covered yet his hand had technology on them, wiring at the joints of the hand leading up to the tips of the fingers. The tips of his fingers were pink and claw like, possibly lethal if used in that way.

  


“You finally have the targets?” He spoke, a monotone voice echoing through the large office.

  


“Yes, sir. Skeppy located Wilbur last night with Bad. This morning we were able to hunt and capture Dream by himself.” Philza spoke as Eret held onto the unconscious Clay.

  


“Good.” He replied, lifting his hand and waving it towards Dream. A skeleton lifted itself from the wall and moved towards Clay, taking him from Eret’s grip.

  


“I’ll deal with them, you are now dismissed.” Techno called, stepping down from what seemed to be an elevated platform and he moved towards the two.

A hidden blade came from Techno’s sleeve as he positioned the blade at Clay’s arm. He moved the sleeve out of the way and sliced open his arm. It wasn't too bad but it was enough to make the area of contact become puffy and red, bleeding out. It was like a papercut but a little bit deeper. It was as if he cut with a razor blade.

  


Clay startled and awoke, the breath in his throat catching awkwardly as his throat seemed to close out of panic. His eyes quickly took in his surroundings and a familiar chuckle caused him to panic even more.

  


“Welcome back, Dream. Did you miss me?” Technoblade asked, chuckling even louder at his own words.

  


“Not one bit. Why recapture me?” Clay asked, familiarized with the situation for it has happened a lot before.

  


“You have a weapon that is dangerous to me. I need to get rid of it… so…” Technoblade paused and looked towards his old teammate, lifting up the partially broken mask to get a good look at his face. “Either tell me how you make them or I have a little bit of fun.”

  


“I won’t tell you shit.” Clay spoke, a small smirk rising on his face. He knew that Techno didn't like torturing people himself. Not ever since the incident with Quackity.   
  
“Alrighty then… Eret, get in here!” Technoblade shouted, watching the doors as they reopened and Eret stepped through. His pale white eyes hidden by the glasses that BadBoyHalo had made just for him to fix his blindness. They didnt work the best but they got the job done.   
  
Eret moved towards Clay with a small smile. taking the blade that Techno used to cut his arm earlier. Eret noticed the wound, pushing the tip of the blade into the wound again. The cold metal contrasted the warm skin that was the wound. Eret pushed the blade to the side to open the wound further, slightly jerking the blade to cut more of his arm open. Clay hissed as his wound was being forcefully reopened by hand, flinching when the cut was made. “Oops, I didn’t mean to do that…” Eret teased, his smirk growing wider.   
  
“Let me repeat myself. How do you make my bots malfunction?” Technoblade grumbled. “You being able to shut down the robots that I can control is dangerous to me. How did you make them?”   
  
“A little something called coding.” Clay said, making Techno become interested but then he realized that's all Clay was going to tell him. Technoblade snapped his fingers and Eret brough the blade to the palm of Clay’s hand, slicing open his palm. It wasnt deep enough to fuck with any joints but it still bled greatly. Eret held the blade to Clay's unharmed arm, placing it towards the wrist.   
  
“I wish you would be more cooperative, then maybe all of this wouldn't be happening, yeah?” Technoblade murmured, looking straight into Clay’s green eyes. Clay stared back into his pink irises    
  
“I thought you wanted to have fun.” Clay replied, not wanting to give up his secrets. If he gave up his secrets then his only form of successful defence would be compromised.    
  
A grunt came from Technoblade and he stepped back, looking at Eret again who sliced part of his wrist. Beads of blood came from the wound, attaching to one another whenever they grew too large and they ran down Clay’s arm. He slashed another wound into his palm, having a mirrored look to the other palm.

  


Wilbur just shook his head at Technoblade, glaring at him. “So why do you want to know about this technology so bad?”   
  
Technoblade didn't reply, keeping his gaze fixated on his ex-ally. Their death glares burning at one another. A nod came from Technoblade and another cut was made on Clay’s arm, this one being a little bit deeper than the rest. 

  


Clay winced, sucking in a breath. He kept his glare, however, keeping whatever strength he had out in the open. He wanted to appear as if this wasn’t making him crack.   
  
“Fine. If you will not comply I might as well send you back into the spider-den.” He looked up at Eret and held his hand out, taking his blade back. He pulled a cloth from his poncho and wiped the blade clean, tucking it back up his sleeve.

  


Clay’s eyes widened, his face turning pale as his stomach dropped to the floor. He can’t go back there… but he can’t give up the only kryptonite he knows of these machines.    
  
“Hopefully this time he won't escape. Knock them both out.” Techno instructed, turning away from the two and he made his way back towards the desk in the back of the windowed room. Eret lifted his arm and launched it towards Clay first, knocking him unconscious in an instant. His nose began to bleed from the contact.

  


Wilbur watched as the scene next to him unfolded, bracing himself as the same fate came to him as did Clay. Darkness obscured his vision.   
_________

  


May 15 2026 | 19:48   
  
“Hey, Sapnap?” George asked, watching out the window as the sun began to set over the horizon. His throat was dry and his stomach was empty. George didn't care, his mind on something else that worried him a lot more. “Where do you think Clay went? Didn’t you say he would be back by now?”

  


“Yeah… I did… I would get some shuteye if you can. You’re going to need it.” Sapnap told George, returning to the room he has spent days in. 

  


George didn’t follow his lead, staying seated by the window near the couch. A small anxious pit at the bottom of his stomach began to grow every second that passed. His mind was worried about one thing and that was Clay’s whereabouts.

  


“I just got you back… please don’t disappear on me again…”


	9. Return to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is such a shit chapter I’m sorry

May 17 2026 | 1:42

  
  


The soft clicking of skittering echoed throughout the underground, hisses and clicks from robots sounded with them. The area was dark and damp, nearly impossible to see anything at all.

Wilbur was already awake, sitting up next to an unconscious Clay. He had already been awake for a few hours, moving Clay to a different side of the cave by pulling him along with his hands under his pits.

He didn't want to pull anywhere else, not wanting to reopen wounds and have his only way of help bleed out even more. Wilbur had heard the stories. The man with a mask, Dream, had made it out of this hellhole once before… he could do it again.

That was a few hours ago, having moved to a smaller corner that was rid of any other decaying bodies and giant mechanical spiders. His body ached, his face ached and itched from dry blood. He was hungry, too, feeling his stomach rumble every once and awhile, his gut feeling as if it were beginning to cave in and eat away at itself. He could feel it in his throat, too.

Wilbur didn't know what to do, didn't know where to go. He just rubbed away at the blood that sat below his nose, picking away at the dried bits. He wondered if his skin was stained at all from the crisps. 

A kick to his shin startled him, causing Wilbur to grunt in pain and hold in whatever yell he had. Great, another thing on his plate to deal with. Wilbur could hear the panic coming from “Dream”, watching his silhouette as it squirmed to sit up.

“You dick, you didn't have to kick me.” Wilbur hissed, watching as the white mask flicked its gaze towards him.

“Who the hell are you?”

“The guy that stood next to you while you were being carved, now we’re here.” Wilbur explained with a hint of sass, annoyed with the startled man.

A small “oh” came from Clay as he began to remember what happened before he was knocked unconscious. That's when the pain kicked in as well, his arms beginning to feel burned and sore.

“I fucking hate Technoblade.” Clay murmured, taking in a deep breath as he began to scan his surroundings. His heartbeat quickened, panic settling in, “He knew I wouldn't be able to survive this a second time. I was so god damn lucky the first time… shit. We’re not gonna get out of here are we-?”

Wilbur turned to look at whatever silhouette of Clay that he could, finding and placing his hand on his onee.

“Stop that, don't decide my fate as well. We can get out of here because this time you have someone by your side. You’re not alone.” Wilbur spoke, trying to calm him down.

It didnt really help him but Clay appreciated the effort… maybe he just needed small talk.

“What’s your name?” Clay asked Wilbur, feeling the hand on his knee disappear.

“Wilbur. You?”

“Dream, but my real name is Clay.”

“Clay? Okay…” Wilbur paused for a moment as if he began to think through what to say next, biting the tip of his tongue as he did so. “You and I are going to get out of here alive and I need you to trust me on that, okay Clay?”

Clay just paused, gripping on his pants as he spoke before giving Wilbur a soft nod. It was nice to know that he would be helping him with this.

“Okay… yeah… alright…” Clay murmured before standing up and brushing off his pants and hoodie. He looked down at Wilbur’s silhouette as the british man began to stand up as well. 

“You’re tall.”

“6’5”

“That makes sense. I’m 6’3”

Wilbur just nodded, walking to the corner of whatever wall he was close to, feeling the tiled concrete of the subway station. He wondered where they were, unsure if there was a railway in front of them or if it was just more room.

And that's when he spotted a light.

There was a traincar with a small dimming light. It seemed to be the only light left working and that was all Wilbur needed.

“Found a source of light, lets go to it, yeah?” Wilbur whispered as he turned his head back towards Clay.

A hum of acknowledgment was the only thing Wilbur got in responce as Clay walked past him and towards the traincar. Wilbur followed after, of course, not wanting to stray too far from Clay since he was his only trustworthy chance of getting out of here. 

“We will scavenge whatever we can in this traincar and leave. Clothes that can be used as bandages, weapons, food, water, anything.”

Wilbur stayed silent, answering to only himself with a nod. He wondered if this would be a consistent thing that would happen between the two. A confirmation in a visual but not in a verbal. 

The floor was surprisingly clear of bodies, Clay had realized and he began to wonder how deep they were in the train system. He also began to wonder why Technoblade put him back down here. He had the chance of escaping… did he just want the spiders to kill them off and eat them instead? He didnt really know.

All he knew is that he had to get out of this place as fast as he could. From what Clay knew, there were only 5 exits. They needed to find the north-most exit since that's the closest exit to where George and Sapnap are.

“Find a map or a location of some sort. I need to know where we are.” Clay told him, already rummaging through the train already as he searched for any sort of sign that could tell him which station they were at.

Wilbur nodded, turning towards the front of the train to find anything that would help him see. He opened compartments and sifted through the papers that were inside. He found a flashlight at the bottom of one of the compartments, pulling it out and testing to see if it would light. It did.

He began to rummage through more things, finally able to see what he was looking at. Not able to find anything, he made his way off of the train, stepping out onto the platform. Wilbur used the flashlight to illuminate the walls, finally finding a location.

“Steinway Street.” Wilbur said, receiving an audible “what” from the train car as Clay made his way out of it.

Wilbur turned his head and pointed the light towards the poster on the wall that he was reading off of.

“Steinway Street.”

“We’re in broadway… I was in Manhattan by the Edison Ballroom. That's the only landmark I can think of off of the top of my head.” Clay returned, pulling a map out of his pocket that was a map of the rails.

“We need to get to… here.” Clay told Wilbur, hovering his finger over the map until pointing it at the 49th Street subway station. “That's the closest station to the ballroom.”

Wilbur nodded, directing the flashlight down the tunnel, waiting for a command of directions. Clay used the light from the flashlight to see where they needed to go to next, having a hard time nonetheless.

Quickly, Clay turned towards the opposite tunnel and walked towards it, hopping onto the rails and walking into the tunnel, Wilbur following behind with the flashlight lighting their way.

“You should be careful with that, Wil, light attracts spiders.” Clay replied, looking towards the british man that was following behind him.

Wilbur nodded, carefully listening to his surroundings, focusing on the echoes of the chirps and screams that came within the tunnels. If there was a correlation with the spiders and light then he would need to be cautious. 

Clay trailed closely by his side, seeming to silence himself as well. He tried to keep himself calm, focusing on Wilbur’s breathing as well as his own. It helped him remember that this was reality… but this time he wasn't alone. He was with a living person.

Maybe this would help him stay sane, another person at his side to help him stay sane during this hell. Last time Clay went through this, he nearly didn't make it out alive. Frequently his mind would flash through scenarios of why he should just end it all, that there wasn't a reason to push forward. He had to remind himself of the little things in life that were beautiful, something that he would miss. He was able to succeed, having fortune on his side.

This time, however, he had a partner. He didn't know if this would be the last of him or Wilbur, but nothing could guarantee it. He got out here once, the chances were slim that he could get out again. Of course, it's a blessing to have another person alive and working with you but it is a curse at the same time. One slip-up caused by your survival buddy could cost both of your lives. Same thing towards Clay.

He didn't want to be the reason that Wilbur died. He also didn't want Wilbur to be the reason that he died.

It was a win-lose scenario. Sort of.

“How did you escape this place last time…?” Wilbur asked, his eyes glued on the tunnel in front of him. The brit thought it was too quiet, too awkward. Small talk would be nice, he thought.

“I stayed primarily in the dark… scavenged for clothes, food, weapons… it wasn't pretty.” Clay explained, “It was during the beginning of the apocalypse. There were a lot more bodies laying around, guts torn out from their stomach. Severed bodies. It smelled awful, too.”

“Gross…”

“Yeah, I know,” Clay let a small laugh go by, helping warm up the awkward atmosphere, “It was nasty. I was able to find an opening and I had noticed that the spiders were attracted to light so I used that to my advantage. There was a weird sap pool in a wall somewhere, used that with a long plank of plywood, wrapped clothes around it and set it on fire with a lighter. It was kind of like a torch? A big one. Caught their attention and I threw it. To be honest, I barely made it out of there alive…”

Clay paused for just a moment, letting his thoughts settle, trying to think of how it went down. To be honest, his brain was trying to block out as much of the event as he could, awaking with night terrors about that awful time. He would dream that he would be hunted, captured and eaten alive. He would wake with his body burning as if something had actually bitten a chunk out of him. A phantom pain.

Clay shook his head to help rid of his thoughts, taking in a deep breath and exhaling. “We’ll make it out of here, I promise.”

Wilbur only nodded, grasping onto the words that filled him with a small sense of hope. Of course, his mind was screaming at him otherwise, causing his throat to go dry and his heart to pick up its pace.

“Alright… better hold to that promise.” 

_________

Time passed dreadingly, minutes felt like hours and hours felt like days. The two had begun to lose sense of time, not talking amongst one another unless it was for a “sanity check”. 

The two were exhausted, having to double track and relocate where they were according to the map. This made Wilbur wish that there were flashing arrows on the ground, pointing them in the direction of Manhattan. 

Wilbur had noticed that the skittering of spiders were growing louder and louder from each step. His arms were shaking from anxiety, his stomach growing uneasy and his throat ran dry. His heart rate picked up as well but he focused on keeping his head clear, not wanting any thoughts to creep up on him and sabotage their mission.

What Wilbur wasn’t expecting was Clay to hold out his hand, causing Wilbur to stop in his tracks. In a quick haste of confusion, Wilbur quickly turned off the flashlight. Turning his head to the side, he noticed that Clay was looking upwards… and that's when he saw it.

Glowing red eyes stuck to the ceiling. Eyes that indicated the presence of a spider. They were nearly underneath the mechanical creature.

They both stayed put, focusing on regulating and slowing their breathing so that it was less audible to the creature. It was difficult to do so, however, both of their heart rates picking up at an extreme rate.

The spider screeched, causing both of their ears to begin to ring and the spider left its position, going down the tunnel where they came from. It was as if it was searching for them, knowing that two alive pieces of prey were wandering around in its own den. 

Clay grabbed onto Wilbur’s wrist, carefully pulling him along the tracks as they maneuvered further down the tunnel towards Manhattan.

_______

The two had found a closet to hide away in, needing somewhere to rest and get their things together. The inside of the closet had decayed immensely, creating a lot of open room for the two to spread out in.

Wilbur set the flashlight down on the floor, the light turned on and facing towards them so they could see. This was the first time he was actually able to make out the features of Clay’s face. The same thing was happening from Clay to Wilbur.

The one thing Wilbur noticed was a huge scar across his face, cutting into his right eyebrow to the left edge of his lip, splitting across his nose.

“Hey, Clay?” Wilbur started, causing Clay to look up from what he was doing. “What happened here?” Wilbur gestured to the scar on his face by bringing the point of his finger up to his own and dragging it across, mocking the scar.

“Oh. That was from day one of the apocalypse. Once everything went to shit and caught everyone off guard, I was trying to get back to my own home with a friend if mine. We were roommates. A spider pinned me down and attacked me, causing me to get this scar as well as a gash on my chest. Brought me here to the nest.”

Wilbur nodded, looking at the scar one final time before he looked at his hands. The wrapping on them was gross and ready to be replaced. Wilbur, however, didn't have any bandage wrap on him… so the dirty bandages would have to suffice for now. 

“What happened to your hands?” Clay asked.

This caused Wilbur to pause for a minute, biting his teeth and causing his jaw to puff out a bit. 

“You don't have—“

“Nah, it's fine. I just punched a mirror.” 

An uncomfortable silence took over the area, Clay staring at him as if he were mad while Wilbur kept his head down.

“Why?”

“Intrusive thoughts.”

Clay immediately shut his mouth after that, clearing his throat and going back to what he was doing. This caused Wilbur to look up and wonder what he was up to. 

“What are you making?”

“A spear… we’re gonna need it to try and defend ourselves.”

A small “ahh” of acknowledgement came from the brit, letting his head rest against the wall behind him. He immediately felt the exhaustion that had been building up for the past… however long… catch up to him.

“Is it a good idea to sleep?”

“Kinda? I guess it's a good idea while we’re in here. Go ahead and rest up a bit. I’ll wake you up in an hour or so.”

Wilbur nodded and laid himself down, finding whatever cushions he could use as comfort and he laid on top of them. He ignored the dust that was coated on them. He had no time to care about it. He needed sleep.

And so he did

_______

The two were stationed in a large opening, a crater almost. This area was too familiar to Clay, remembering this exact place… yet this is where they needed to go.

This is where Clay had escaped, this exact room. He wondered if his makeshift torch was still laying on the ground. Clay wished he could see the area, smelling the familiar rotting scents.

Wilbur could tell the change in atmosphere was familiar to Clay, watching as he watched the area around him as if he was reminiscing. 

“Let's get to it.” Clay whispered, a strong tone of dread carrying through his voice. Wilbur could tell from that statement that this was going to be a shitshow.

Clay pulled the flashlight out and turned it on, quickly surveying the area around him just to see what they were dealing with. From the quick flash, the two were able to see the hundreds of spiders that covered the ceiling, piling around in pockets as if they were protecting something. 

Wilbur had no idea why the formation was like that, however, Clay knew exactly why. They were blocking out the light from the surface. The areas with the greatest amounts of machinery were the exits to this hellscape.

Spiders screamed at the light, their read beady eyes daring towards them with haste. They were eyeing their prey, focusing on the light. The light didn't stay long enough for them to register an exact position but it was enough to send multiple crawling towards them.

Clay quickly moved to the right, dragging Wilbur with him by his wrist as they moved with haste. Wilbur knew he had to follow whatever silent command his ally gave him. He knew more about the spiders and how to get out of this mess than the brit did. 

Large gusts of quick wind blew past them, telling them that spiders were now on the ground and around them. They moved in silent haste, not wanting to make any noise that might startle the spiders.

Clay had made sort of a dart towards one of the exits to the den, making sure Wilbur was following behind him as he ran. He turned on the flashlight, shining it straight at the spiders blocking an exit which caused them to his and disperse… as well as readying themselves to attack the two.

Clay quickly tossed the flashlight, having enough light from the gap to see. And so could Wilbur.

A spider launched itself towards the flashlight, causing an unbalance in stability which also caused an avalanche of spiders to fall from the hole. 

Because of this light, however, spiders could see each other… and they could see the humans.

“Run!” Clay shouted, causing Wilbur to pick up his pace and launch himself towards the exit, hearing a mixture of panting and screeching. A spider dropped down in front of them, aiming at Clay since he was in front of Wilbur.

A quick slash cut through Clay’s clothing, adding yet another scar to the flordian’s chest as well as causing him to stumble against Wilbur.

Wilbur held onto him, unsure of how to move away from the spider without dropping Clay. He didn't want to leave him to die nor did he have the time to help him recover from being stunned by the beast.

That wasnt a problem, however, a large explosion coming off of the spider as it screamed and turned. Wilbur noticed a familiar face at the entrance, canisters of propane were next to the familiar figure as they lit the canisters on fire and tossed them inside.

“Clay! Clay! We need to go— get your shit together!” Wilbur shouted, pushing him towards the exit.

Clay eventually came back to reality, weakly sprinting towards the exit of the hell hole. Wilbur followed behind him, making sure that he didn't fall over. 

The sounds of mechanical screaming and explosions didnt help Clay with his daze, causing his head to pound and his body to shake with every  _ boom _ that sounded behind him. 

“Get your ass up here! I don't have a lot of these left!” Shouted the familiar dutch voice, causing Wilbur to eventually grab Clay’s forearm and tug him up the steep hill that led to the exit.

Fundy stood at the top, lighting propane tanks and throwing them in to damage and distract the spiders below. Once Wilbur and Clay were out of that hell hole, he threw one at the top of the entrance, causing it to explode and destroy the entrance, debris covering the hole.

Heavy breathing followed after, nearly overpowering the deafened screams of spiders below them. Wilbur glanced up at his friend, his brother, and quickly fell into the embrace of a hug.

“You dumb bastard… gone without a word for 6 days with the fabled  _ Dream _ .” The dutch man complained, holding onto him tightly as Wilbur tried to emulate the same compassion. That was difficult, considering the state he was in.

“I didn't think I would make it out of there…” Wilbur murmured, burying his face into the crook of Fundy’s neck. A familiar place.

“You did, you did…” Fundy placed a hand on the back of Wilbur’s head, holding him close during the reunion.

Clay had taken a seat, laying down on the concrete beneath him as he let his body rest. He ignored the blood that soaked his clothes and seeped out of his body… he just wanted to lay down.

“We need to get him back to the ballroom.” Wilbur murmured to the other.

“Good idea…”

Wilbur and Fundy broke the embrace, moving over to the injured brunette to help him up. Fundy had suggested that Wilbur were to be the one to carry him… however, Wilbur was weak, so Fundy was the one to carry a man taller than him back to the ballroom for recovery.


	10. Repairs and Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... 1-2 more chapters left, my friends.

May 20 2026 | 11:42

The ballroom was quiet, soft melodies from the piano humming through the hall. Toby sat at the piano, playing songs that he learned and made up himself while Tommy sat against the piano, letting the instrument vibrate his back. Tommy sat with his eyes closed, silent for once in a long time.

The silence was interrupted once the door had opened, hasteful shuffling coming from the door as both Wilbur and Fundy carried someone into the ballroom.

Tommy looked at Wilbur with a face full of shock, quickly standing up and jumping down from the stage to go and help. He was tall enough to help out, too, taking Wilbur’s place to let the injured man rest. 

“Back room where we sleep.” Fundy quickly said, Tommy giving the dutch man a quick nod. Quickly, Tommy and Fundy moved to the back room with the now-unconscious dirty-blonde in their grip. 

Once they made it to the backroom, they placed him down on the mattress and Fundy quickly removed his hoodie and shirt underneath, revealing a large, nasty gash across his chest.

“Go and get the medkit. It should be by Wilbur’s guitar.” Fundy told him, checking the man for anymore wounds that could be scattered around him.

Tommy left the room in haste, retrieving the medkit near Wilbur’s bag. He could spot Wilbur laying on the stage by Toby, letting the boy examine the black eye on his face.

Tommy returned to the backroom, handing Fundy the medkit for him to use. Fundy quickly went to work, pulling out alcohol wipes to clean up the mess of blood and disinfect the wounds that littered his body. 

The pain brought the man into a conscious state, yelling out in pain as Fundy grumbled in annoyance. “Sorry Dream, gotta do what we gotta do.”

Tommy looked at Fundy for a second, eyeing him as if he were crazy. This was Dream? The same person that escaped the den? “Holy shit.”

“I have to stitch this wound, its too big to scab over.” Fundy told him, grabbing the medical thread and needle that was sitting on the medkit, ready for use.

Fundy brought the needle to the tip of the wound, threading the needle through the skin and making sure that it made it to the other side, pulling it all together.

Tommy hated how it looked, turning away as he listened to Dream whine and fuss at the repairs. Each puncture earned a hiss, each tug earned a whimper or a whine. Sometimes, Fundy would hit a sensitive area and it would earn a curse towards the man helping him out. 

“Tommy, talk to him will you? Distract him.” Fundy ordered, not even halfway done. It was going to be a long ride.

“How?”

“I dont know, think of something!”

Tommy gave an annoyed grumble, looking at the man before him. “How did you even get like this, big man?”

Dream eyed him at the nickname, finding it humorous. “Spiders den, again…”

“Wait, was Wil with you?” Tommy questioned, squinting at the man sitting in front of him on the mattress. 

“Yeah, we were kidnapped, put in front of an old gang leader I used to follow… and we were thrown into the den. They were trying to kill us but we’re strong enough.”

“Thats cool.”

“Yeah, I was with another—“ he hissed at another bad stitch, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Sorry…” Fundy murmured as he continued.

“I was with another group, only two others though… not far from here… I was wondering if one of you could go get them.” Clay asked

“I can go… later today. I need to check up on Wilbur as well.” Fundy told Clay, looking up at him for a split second before finishing the stitching in his center, moving towards the lower part of the wound. 

“Tell them my name, that should help convince George. I would give you my mask but Technoblade destroyed that.” Clay told Fundy, looking back towards Tommy.

“What’s your name?” Fundy asked.

“Clay.” 

“Thats a stupid name.” Tommy replied, getting a glare from Fundy yet a stifled chuckle from Clay.

“At least it isn't Tommy.” Clay shot back, getting a loud sound of annoyance and disagreement come from the child.

“Wh— No— You— Augh.” Tommy just stood, walking away as if he were going to leave, stopping and turning back towards them. He wants to talk to Clay— Dream, whether he like it or not.

“Can you teach me how to fight n’ shit?” Tommy asked him, getting a nod from Clay. 

“Yeah, once I’m better, I’ll teach you how to combat against those machines… especially after watching you run from a creeper the other day.” Clay teased, causing Tommy’s face to grow red in embarrassment.

“You were there?!” Tommy yelled, letting out a quiet and high pitched “ooohh” in embarrassment.

“Yeah. I had to save George’s ass. The guy that was there before I was. He warned you and saved your life,” Clay paused to let out a soft chuckle and then a small “ow” from the wound, “What were you even doing?”

Tommy hesitated a little bit, gathering a way to tell him what he was up to that evening. “I was getting parts to make a gift for my friend, Tubbo. I wanted to make him a beebox. A mechanical bee… I dont think I can make it fly but he likes bugs… especially bees. Dunno… he always talked about them and messed with them while we were at the orphanage.”

“Orphanage?”

“Yeah. Parents died. I was put in the orphanage. Tubbo was already there. We were young but we were the same age and were roommates so we clicked really easily. He would accidentally leave his window open and we would get ladybugs, spiders, moths, you name it… and he would make sure that they didnt die as he put them back outside.”

Tommy took a deep breath, remembering the orphanage that the two stayed at. He remembered the pastime and how annyoing all of the other kids were, how mean the ladies at the orphanage were. He wished he could run away but Tubbo always convinced him otherwise.

“When we were allowed to go to the courtyard, there was just a wall of rose bushes and he would sit by them, watching the bees polinate and live their life. He often spoke about how he wished he were a bee, how much easier life would be… just living his life to find and gather food for his hive as well as bring life to flowers. I always told him I wished I could mind control them… but I understood his point. I could never get sappy, I always had to be silly.”

Clay listened intently, enjoying the story from the boy. It began to make him wonder how he learned about Fundy and Wilbur. So he asked…

“How do you know Fundy and Wilbur?”

“They would come to the orphanage sometimes. People can volunteer to do different things to give kids something to do… so they played music for us, thats all. They had a keen eye on Tubbo and I, probably Tubbo… he wanted to learn piano, his mother having taught him before her death. Fundy was all for it and helped him learn how to play.” 

Fundy gave him a nod, confirming the story. He sat, hands in his lap since he had finished the stitching.

“So… Wilbur promised us that if we turned 18 before being adopted that they would take us in… like younger siblings… and he kept his promise.” Tommy tugged at the highschool jacket that he wore, smiling a soft bit. “He gave me this, Wilbur did, to help cement the promise… and I guess he wasnt lying.” 

Clay nodded, noticing Fundy move and grab medical wrap, subtly asking him to lift his arms so he could wrap his body, wanting some sort of protection against the threaded wound.

“Ah, I’m done being sappy. How are ya feelin, big man?” Tommy asked, changing the topic.

“I’m okay. My chest aches a lot but I’m okay. It also just hurts to walk… hence why Fundy and Wilbur carried me— I cant believe you found us.”

“To be honest, I just found it odd how fucking loud it was. It was way too loud over there so I just had to go check it out.” Fundy replied, checking Clay’s body to find anymore wounds that he would need to bandage. There were small cuts and scrapes but nothing that needed fixing. 

“I’m going to go get your friends. Where are they?”

“One of the apartment building. Its the only one that isnt completey demolished… you wont miss it. Just head straight north of here.” Clay replied and Fundy nodded, standing up and walking out of the room.

“Tommy, find him a new shirt or hoodie or something, or maybe even a blanket, I dunno.” Fundy asked before he left the room, heading towards the entrance to the ballroom.  
_________

May 20 2026 | 12:14

Fundy stood outside of an apartment building, surrounded by rubble from buildings that once stood tall and mighty, buildings that once had purpose.

With a deep breath, he entered the building and began his search for the two named George and Nick. A knock hummed through each door on each floor that Fundy had scavenged on, searching for the two that Clay was aquianted with.

The dutch walked up to a door that was opened by a crack, movement and words coming through the cracked door and out into the hallway. He hoped that this was the place, hearing a worried british voice fight with a subtly southern voice. 

“He just disappeared, Nick! We dont know where he is, we dont know what happened to him— its been four days! We have to go looking for him!”

“We arent doing anything of the sort! Its Clay, for fucks sake. He’ll make it back, I know he will.” A soft sob came from the room and the tone seemed to shift.

Nick, Fundy assumed, lowered his voice and softened his tone for George. “Look, I know you know him more than I do, you lived with him pre-apocalypse, but that guy is a fucking badass…”

“Yeah…”

Fundy knocked on the door, halting the conversation that roared inside. He waited for an answer, wondering if the two would even let him in… so he let himself in instead.

A look of hope in both of their eyes quickly faded, realizing that Fundy wasnt the person he was hoping go see.

“What do you want.” The pale brunette asked, eyeing the dutch man with a sense of hurt. Tears stained his cheeks, leaving evidence that he had been crying.

“I… uhm… Clay sent me to come get you both.” Fundy replied, gaining questionable glances from both Nick and George.

“Clay? Why? Where is he? Is he okay?” George asked, stepping towards Fundy as he quickly interrogated the man.

“He’s hurt. He had just escaped the spiders den. He’s at my base safe with friends. I patched him up but he’s in no condition to excersize.” Fundy replied, watching as Nick ran off— more like hobbled— into a separate room, coming out with three backpacks. Two looked soft and normal while the other had hard edges, seeming to pack something other than food and clothes.

“Lead us to him, please.” Nick asked, handing George a backpack as well as Fundy. 

Fundy and George hoisted their own given backpack around them, securing them on their back. Fundy was given the heavy and jabby one, wondering what the hell was in this bag. 

“Its a longer trek… but he’ll be happy to see you both. We’re heading to a ballroom… the Edison Ballroom to be exact.” Fundy told them, getting nods from the both of them as they made their exit out of the apartment building and into the hallway.  
_______

May 20 2026 | 2:46

Clay sat in the backroom alone. Tommy had left him alone about an hour and a half ago, being called by Wilbur to help him with something. 

Clay had been given an old sweatshirt that Wilbur used to wear, it having shrunk just a bit over time during the apocalypse. It didnt fit Wilbur anymore but it did fit Clay… and he was thankful for that.

He began to wonder how Fundy was doing, wondering if George and Nick had been cooperative or stubborn. He wasnt sure, knowing that either route could have been taken with the both of them.

The loud click of the front door sounded, shuffling and chatter sounding through the halls. Two excited voices were heard, both familiar, and Clay felt an excited yet nervous pit in his stomach grow.

Quick footsteps grew louder down the hallway before two familiar faces popped around the corner, two that Clay was so excited to see.

“Jesus fucking christ, man.” Nick huffed, walking over to him while George darted to his side and hugged him. George wasnt one for physical affection, Nick had learned… but he always was open to hugs and cuddles from Clay, it seemed.

“Fuck you,” George had spat, his head buried in Clay’s neck as he tried to hold back tears. “I just got you back and you fucking disappeared on me, asshole. Stop doing that.”

Clay held him close, moving him to where George was seated on his lap, straddling almost. He held him close, pressing the side of his face against the side of George’s head. 

Nick sighed, realizing that it wasnt his place to stay at the moment and he turned to leave. He needed to let the loverbirds have their time together… whether or not they were officially together in their own heads.

“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon… not without you, I promise.” He murmured, kissing the side of his head before burying his own face in the crook of the brit’s neck.

“You better not.” George argued, moving his face and body away from Clay so that he could get a good look at him… for old time’s sake.

Clay moved back as well, looking up at the man seated on his lap. His hands had moved to his hips, supporting him as he sat on him. George’s hands slowly moved from Clay’s shoulders to his face, cupping them with a sense of reunion, almost, rubbing his thumbs across the dips and crevices of his face. 

He studied the freckles that scattered his cheeks and appeared on his neck. He studied the scar that drew across his face, chipping away at a piece of his eyebrow, giving it an accidental slit. He studied the color of his eyes, regardless or not if he were colorblind, they were beautiful anyway. He studied his nose and how the majority of the freckles that the flordian had were gathered around his nose…

He studied his lips, chapped and split open from the cold travels Wilbur and Clay had gone through. A thumb moved to his lips, pressing up and pulling down the bottom lip of the flordian. Clay felt a static warmth from each touch, not realizing he had closed his eyes until the english man had spoken.

“Hi…” George murmured as he removed his touch from him, his hands sliding back down to his shoulders… yet one stayed by his jaw, supporting it almost.

“Hi…” Clay murmured back, soft and hoarse from the amount of emtions he felt a that very moment. Clay had begun to realize just how much George could make him feel, how one person could give him the sense of happiness, giddiness, nervousness and anxiety… but… anxiety in a good way. 

They both paused, staring into each others eyes before Clay flicked his gaze down to George’s lips, taking the role of studying how soft they looked. He wanted to test that theory…

Clay lifted himself up slightly, locking lips with the man in front of him as he let his emotions flow through his own actions. Bundled nerves that have been tight seemed to relax, giving Clay a sense of peace.

George used his hand to help push in deeper, briefly breaking the kiss to dive in for another, turning his head and making sure that he was getting as much as he could. He was desperate for him, something the brit never thought he would feel. It was odd… but he didnt hate it.

Clay was the one to break the kiss, stopping George from diving in for another with two fingers placed on his chin.

“Well, you missed me, didnt ya.” Clay asked, chuckling quietly in an effort to not irritate his wound, pressing his forehead against the other.

“Of course I did, idiot,” George grumbled before quickly stealing another short kiss from Clay, hearing Clay hum in acceptance. 

“I’m not joking about that promise. I’m not going anywhere unless if you’re by my side.” Clay replied, opening his eyes to look up at George’s, seeing brown stare back at him.

George felt his chest blossom, a sense of joy overwhelming his senses. “I believe you, I do…” He murmured before pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose, right at the biggest part of the scar that covered his face.

“Can you stay here with me…? I’m exhausted… I couldnt rest until you got here.”

George nodded, humming in agreement as he moved off of him. Watching as Clay carefully laid himself down, opening his arms when he was situated.

“Be careful, I have stiching all up my torso.”

George nodded before laying down, carefully resting himself on top of the dirty-blonde, wrapping an arm around his body while a nose buried into his scalp, arms wrapping around him. It was nearly identical to the first monring Clay was back. 

“Goodnight,” George murmured, receiving an almost inaudible “goodnight” from Clay.  
_______

May 20 2026 | 2:58

Wilbur was seated on the floor near the stage, tuning his guitar to play while he passed time. Tommy and Tubbo were on the stage, Tommy letting Tubbo watch him as he began to construct something out of scrapmetal. Wilbur wasnt too entirely sure what it was for or where it came from but he knew that it was a good pastime for the both of them as well.

Fundy was seated next to Nick, learning about who he was and what his skills were. He learned that he has prefered to be called Sapnap, causing Fundy to reveal his real name to the Texan as well. Their conversation didnt last long, Fundy’s attention moving over towards Wilbur as he sat with his guitar.

Standing, Fundy made his way over to Wilbur while waving a farewell to Sapnap. Wilbur hadnt noticed his presence until he was seated next to him, listening to Wilbur play.

“Hey, Fundy.” Wilbur murmured, not stopping the tune that was rolling through his fingers. It was improvised.

“Hey… how are you feeling?” Fundy asked, worried mostly about how his face and hands felt.

“Fine, achey but fine,” Wilbur replied, looking up for a short second before his gaze returned to the strings.

“Good, good.” Fundy sighed, his tone quieting. “I’m glad.”

Silence hovered over them as chatter from the boys quietly echoed through the room, accompanied by the soft strumming of Wilbur’s guitar.

“What… What do you want to do, if all of this ends?” Wilbur asked, looking up at Fundy as he played simple chords.

“Well… I would want to move somewhere… probably in the forest, by a lake… maybe live in a log cabin. Dunno, I just like the forest… used to skip school as a kid just to be in one.” Fundy replied, Wilbur nodding at his response.

“I promise that, then, once this is all over. You, me, Tommy, Tubbo… we’ll go and live in a log cabin by a lake.” Wilbur promised, nodding at Fundy with certainty before looking back down at the strings, strumming them accordingly.

“Alright, I’ll keep that promise in mind, then.” Fundy murmured, watching Wilbur’s fingers as they moved across the fretts. It calmed him, giving him a sense of normality almost…

Fundy began to wonder if things would ever go back to normal and if he would be alive to see it.


	11. Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little check in and thoughts that I have for the future of this work

Hey guys! Sorry I just... vanished.

I have grown completely unmotivated with this work because it isnt making me happy. There are so many elements of this fanfiction that I thought of but never wrote about, leaving it rather bland. I also only plotted the areas and just little ideas in each area, not fully fleshing out what would happen.

All Imm saying is that the fanfic moved on too fast. I didnt write it satisfying enough for myself and I am very unhappy with the outcome.

I am going to try to finish it... but no promises.

I will, however, attempt to rewrite this in the future because I really like the idea and I really like the elements of the story... but things will be different. Some scenes will be there and others might not be. It all just depends.

I am going to continue writing. I have been writing short stories and I have yet to finish a single one... but thats okay I guess.

If you wanna see whats happening behind the scenes and maybe help me out a little, contact me on instagram (@za.k.ai) and ask for the link to my story discord and I’ll give it to you :)

I am working on a Spider-Man AU and a Elemental-Dark Academia AU so that should be interesting :D

Anyways, thank you all for reading. I’m putting a hiatus on this fic and I’m not promising if I’ll come back to it... but I will try. I promise.

See you all later. <3


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